


Little Loves--A Chibi Tale

by TheStrange_One



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Chibi, High School, Organized Crime, Rich Harry, clever Gwen, expensive pets, shady corporations, smol!Peter, smol!Wade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2020-04-06 01:16:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 39
Words: 51,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19052299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrange_One/pseuds/TheStrange_One
Summary: Gwen gets a new pet at the flea market--only to discover that some very shady people want it while organized crime is trying to take over her school. What's a girl to do?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Little Goes a Long Way](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857235) by [LunaStories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaStories/pseuds/LunaStories). 
  * Inspired by [Good Boy Peter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801096) by [Her11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her11/pseuds/Her11). 



> All right my lovely audience, my sweet readers. With Kingdoms (mostly) wrapped up, it's time to start thinking ahead to my next one! Honestly, I'm tied between this one and another one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051945/chapters/45254944). So, I'll post the first chapter of each and let the comment section decide! Tuesday morning (because that's when I get off work and is, frankly, my one day off this week) I'll tally up the votes. Comment to cast your vote (even if it's just an emoji, it counts). Okay, I'll be working on both fics--but I'll FOCUS on whichever gets the most votes and update the other one sporadically.
> 
> Also--this one starts off sweet and darkens up as I go. The other one starts off dark and sweetens as I go. Thought you should know that going in. :)

Gwen sighed a little in frustration as the crowd ebbed around her. She stepped into a small shelter afforded by two tables and rubbed her head to try and stave off a headache. How, just how did she get into this?

She knew how. It was Ms. I-Know-What’s-Best-For-You Mary Jane Watson, that was how. “Come on, Gwen,” her stepsister had whined. “It’ll be fun Gwen. There’ll be lots of bargains, Gwen. Gweeen.” Finally, at three in the morning Gwen had thrown a pillow at her and said she’d do anything to make the other girl _shut up_. She had _not_ expected to be hauled out of bed, dragged to the flea market, and then _left behind_ as Mary Jane spotted her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—with the captain of the chess team.

Gwen glanced around at all the tables, headache now furiously pounding.  The table closest to her was covered in what looked like rusty yard tools, the one right next to it with shirts that, for some reason, had squares cut out of the front. What could possibly be good about  _this_ ?

“Are you all right?” She looked up into the kind eyes of an elderly man, the wrinkles on his face deepened into a frown. “You don’t look so good,” he added.

“Just—just a headache,” she said weakly.

The man chuckled. “And this crowd isn’t helping that, not at all,” he said. “Hold on, I have just the thing.” He went under the table, grabbed something, and pulled out what looked like a pet carrier. “Here we are,” he said as he placed the carrier on the table.

Curious, Gwen leaned towards it and looked through the cage door on the side to see—a miniature human face. The small human, about six inches tall  with a head that seemed to be just a little too large for its body, had messy brown hair and sad amber eyes. “Awoo?” it crooned piteously.  It was wearing a green shirt two sizes too big for it. 

“Poor thing just lost his family,” the old man said. “And, well—I’m going to have to move in with my daughter soon. She doesn’t like these little people very much and told me to get rid of him.”

Poor thing. He lost his family, was losing his home—Gwen might have days where she didn’t like her family very much, but at least she still had one. She looked up at the elderly man. “What’s his name?” she asked.

The man smiled and ran long, thin fingers along the outside of the carrier fondly. “I call him Peter,” he said, “on account that he likes to try to fly.”

Gwen leaned down and looked in the carrier again as the little human, Peter, looked at her. “Hello Peter,” she said gently.

“Awoo?” he asked again. He toddled over to the bars and stuck an arm out as far as he could.

“My name’s Gwen. It’s nice to meet you,” she said reaching a finger towards him. He gripped the tip of her finger with surprising strength and then pumped it up once, twice, and grinned back at her.

The old man chuckled again. “He seems to like you, Ms. Gwen.”

She looked up. “How much is he?”

He chuckled again. “For you? Nothing.” The man pushed the carrier towards her.

“But—”

“No, no. I’d rather see him go to a good family than a bad one.” The old man winked. “I’m an excellent judge of character you know. Off you go.” She hesitantly took the handle of the carrier. “And Gwen?” called the man. “Sometimes we start our journeys on our own, but sometimes we have to accept a push.” He winked again as the girl pushed off into the foot traffic around her.

He didn’t even twitch when he was surrounded by people in three-piece suits. “Benjamin Parker,” one of them said, “you are under arrest for the theft of restricted materials.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen finds the food court and waits for Mary Jane to meet them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right my lovely audience! It's bright and early Tuesday morning, the votes are in--and the results are a tie. Seriously, I had exactly one comment on each story. So--I'm going to try to work on both of them. I might shift to prioritizing one over the other, depending on traffic, but I'm going to try to give them equal priority. Now--that means I'll have a slower posting schedule than my audience is used to. I'll do my best to post in each fic several times a week--but we'll see. This is my first time doing simultaneous fics. And now--on to the chapter! :)

Gwen found one of the food courts and planted herself. Mary Jane was just going to have to come to _her_. It wasn’t as though the other girl could _leave_ without Gwen—

Gwen quickly stood up and fished in her pockets before sighing in relief. She still had the keys. This wasn’t going to be a repeat of Homecoming, where Mary Jane had dragged her to the game only to ditch her to go “play” with the quarterback. Who’d spent the next two weeks limping, causing the red-head to get a harsh lecture from the football coach.

But this wasn’t going to be a repeat of that, because Gwen still had the car keys. And even if it  _was_ like that, Gwen would still have a car to leave in. She wasn’t stranded. She wasn’t going to have to make a mortifying call to her mother, and she wasn’t going to be caught out in the rain.

She looked up at the cloudless sky, sun blazing down, and mentally changed that to  _pass out from heatstroke_ . After all—

Her stomach took that moment to painfully remind her that she hadn’t eaten since…lunch? She was pretty sure it had been lunch. She’d eaten in the cafeteria—she thought she had anyway. It probably counted. Gwen looked into the carrier at the wide-eyed little person. “What about you?” she asked. “Are you hungry too?”

Peter nodded firmly. “Awee!” he announced.

Gwen chuckled. “All right then. Let’s get some food.”

For the most part, there was nothing that she’d consider  _food_ at the flea market. Junk, yes—there was an absurd amount of junk food, but not  _real_ food. She settled for some fully loaded nachos, and got an extra boat so that she could put half of them in the carrier with Peter. She had no idea how much a little person was or was not supposed to eat. “First thing,” she told Peter as she grabbed a nacho loaded with so much chili, cheese, and sour cream that it drooped, “is research when we get home. I need to know that I’m not going to accidentally kill you.”

“Awoo?” asked Peter looking up from his food. He’d already demolished almost half of it.

“No,” she said, “I’m not _planning_ to kill you either. I would like you to live a long, healthy life.”

“Who are you talking to?” Gwen looked up to see her step sister walking towards them.

Even at this time of day, after a night of next to zero sleep (after all, she’d been whining and pleading with Gwen until three in the morning), Mary Jane still looked like a movie star. Not a single long, ginger hair of hers was out of place. Her freckles were just enough to make people call her cute, not rampantly all over her face like with some poor redheads. Her green eyes glittered like emeralds in the sunlight and she carried herself like a rock star striding down the red carpet,  eyes following her every move.

Gwen, on the other hand, had thin, limp hair that was already half out of its ponytail, creases in her face from her glasses, and a slump as her body demanded either sleep or caffeine and was getting neither. Of course, Mary Jane couldn't help it if she rolled out of bed looking like a pop star while Gwen rolled out and looked like the Bride of Frankenstein. It wasn’t  _her_ fault Gwen was jealous.

Gwen pushed the jealousy down.  It was a mental action she was used to taking. She angled the carrier towards Mary Jane. “His name’s Peter,” she said.

Mary Jane smiled and peeked into the carrier. Then she blinked. “You found a chibi at a flea market?” she asked with curiosity.

“A what?” asked Gwen. She peeked into the carrier herself to see that Peter was smeared with a mixture of nacho cheese, chili sauce, sour cream, and crumbs. “You,” she told the little human, “are a mess.” 

He grinned up at her. “Awee!” he said happily before licking some of the sauce off his arm.

Mary Jane just chuckled at the two of them. “You may want to take him into the bathroom to clean him off a bit before the ride home,” she said with a smile. “Oh!” she exclaimed as Gwen stood up. “Can I make clothes for him?”

“Boy clothes, or girl clothes?” asked Gwen suspiciously.

“Please.” Mary Jane tossed her mane of red hair over her shoulder. “Some boys make really cute girls.”

Gwen had to admit that was true. Some boys made really cute girls the same way some girls made really cute guys. Still… “So make some of each. Let him choose what he wants to wear, and no pouting about it,” she said firmly.

Mary Jane gave a happy squeal and jumped up. “I’ll meet you at the car!” she said excitedly before running off.

Gwen grinned at Peter. “How long do you think it’s going to take her to realize that she’s not the one with the keys?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen takes Peter home, and he meets her family. And the gerbils. Can't forget the gerbils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when I was in high school, my best friend went overseas for spring break, and had me watch her pets. One of the groups of pets she had me watch was the gerbils. They gave me slight mental scars, in case you can't tell. (If you can't, I feel certain it'll be clearer in later chapters.)

Gwen’s mother had the predictable reaction to the chibi. She peered into the carrier, sighed, and then looked at her daughter. “Make sure he knows not to go near the gerbils,” she said.

Gwen automatically turned to look at the gerbil tank. It was a sixty-gallon clear plastic tub under the TV, and had sixty-five  cream colored Mongolian gerbils. As always, the leader of the pack stood on the one rock in the hay enclosure and watched the humans while the others frantically dug at the sides of the tank, trying to claw their way out. Gwen suppressed a shudder looking at them.

Gwen turned the carrier. “Those,” she said to the chibi, not sure of how much he understood, “are Mom’s gerbils. Stay away from them; they’ll eat you alive.”

Gwen’s mother frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said firmly. “They don’t eat meat.”

Gwen met the cold, calculating gaze of the lead gerbil as it sized her up. “I don’t think they got the memo,” she said calmly as she went to her room.

Ian, her little brother, danced around her as she made her way. “You got a new pet? Cool! What’s he like? Oh, he’s like a little human! Does he  eat people food? Does he have to use a knife and fork like me? What’s his name?”

Gwen, used to her hyper little brother, calmly waited for the boy to wind down. “His name is Peter,” she said. “He had some nachos at the flea market, but I’m not sure they’re healthy for him and I don’t know if they even  _make_ silverware for chibis.”

Ian, freckled nose pressed close to the wire mesh of the front of the carrier as he looked into it, cooed. Then he looked at Gwen, who was sitting down at her computer. “Can I play with him?” he asked eagerly.

“Maybe,” asked Gwen as she booted the machine up. “Let me make sure we don’t accidentally kill him first,” she said.

“O—kay!” trilled the boy. “Oh, MJ!” he called as his other sister walked past the open door. “Whatcha got there? Something fun?”

Gwen chuckled as she typed a question into the search engine. “Okay,” she said. She tapped the screen, knowing that Peter can’t see it. “ Here we go. ‘Everything You Need to Know About Your New Chibi.’ Man, what a title.  _Six hundred dollars_ ?” Gwen stared at the screen. The price by the book, released by Oscorp, did not change.

Greedy bastards. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, imagining her anger and frustration trickling away like water through a stream. As usual the image did nothing, so she mentally replaced it with the image of  Carmelita, the head cheerleader, struck with a massive case of acne and felt better. Or at least not like killing her computer. “All right,” she said. She interlaced her fingers, turned her palms away from her body, and cracked her knuckles. “Let’s do this the hard way then.”

After another hour of searching, she found an online group for people raising rescued chibis. “All right,” she said as she read. “According to this chibis can eat anything a human can—good for you—and need—hold up.” She read the list again. “Okay, it says you need a ‘home’. I don’t think the carrier will do it for you. Also that you need ‘toys.’ I guess chibis get bored easily, like people do. And ‘companionship.’ Huh.” She scanned the article, found that it was recommended for there to be either two chibis (at least) in a single house  or someone with the chibi at all times.” She looked through the carrier at Peter.

“Awe?” he asked tilting his head adorably to the side.

Ideas were already spinning her chaotic mind. “I have,” she said, “a plan. Ian!” she called as she opened the carrier and put in her hand. Peter blithely hopped on and she saw the wide, slightly cheese-stained smile (she was going to have to figure out how to get him something to brush his teeth with) he gave her.

Ian popped into her room like a summoned genie. “Yeah?” he asked, vibrating with excitement.

“Peter, this is my little brother Ian. Ian, he’s fragile. I’m going to use the workshop,” she said firmly, “and I want you to look after him while I’m there.”

“Oh, boy! Can you help me with my homework Peter?” asked Ian.

Gwen started to tell him not to be ridiculous, but closed her mouth thoughtfully. How smart  _was_ a chibi? The site didn’t say. “Why don’t you see if he can read, or teach him how?” she suggested instead.

“This’ll be fun!” said the boy as he took the chibi out of the room, no doubt dreaming of getting the tiny human to do his homework for him.

Gwen just shook her head. She knew he’d be careful with the little chibi. She went to see James, her stepfather. “Can I work on something in the shop?” she asked.

James sighed and ran a hand over his thinning red hair. “Is it going to implode, explode, or catch on fire?” he asked.

“No, no, and probably not? I’ll try to make it safe,” she said.

“What is it?” he asked wearily as he turned to his stepdaughter.

Gwen grinned. “I’m going to make a house,” she said smugly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen builds a small house.

Gwen wandered past her brother’s room in search of her stepfather. “B is for bomb,” she heard Ian say. She paused and peeked into the open room. Ian was sprawled on the floor with various books and was looking at pictures while Peter leaned over and cooed at him. “Bombs explode! They destroy things and kill people. Controlled bombs can take down buildings without getting people hurt.”

“Awee?” asked Peter.

Gwen turned away. Probably it was normal for a seven year-old to be obsessed with bombs. Especially after her last workshop project exploded. Or imploded. She wasn’t actually sure which had happened.

“Hey, James.” He looked up at her from the computer he was working on. “Can I ask you a plumbing question?”

James didn’t even look up from his task. “You may not do anything with or to the plumbing of this house.”

“But—”

“No.”

All right. She’d move on to something else. She knew enough about houses (thank you, Habitat for Humanity), that she knew the important parts. So she couldn't connect the house she was building with the plumbing of her own house. That was all right. She’d figure something else out, because that little chibi was going to need to use the toilet at some point.

“Hey, can I have your old smart phone?”

Gwen’s mother frowned as she pushed back a strand of hair—same blond as her daughter. “It’s not on a network,” she said.

“That’s fine.”

Gwen’s mother, used to her eccentricities, shrugged. “All right. It’s in the junk drawer.”

“Awesome.”

Gwen went back to work. So, there were lights (awesome fairy lights—no one used them anymore and likely wouldn't notice them missing), an entertainment center (she was sure that Peter would figure out how to use a smart phone—she couldn't see a reason why not when the ditsy airhead in Geometry had no problem), and the house had WiFi that the phone was already connected to.  But it still needed  _more_ . What made a house a home.

“Mary Jane, do you still have those miniature books?”

Mary Jane, in the middle of sewing something that looked suspiciously like a pink dress, looked up. “Yes. Why?”

“I’m putting a library in Peter’s new house,” Gwen explained.

“They’re in a shoe box at the bottom of my closet,” Mary Jane said calmly as she went back to sewing. Gwen wasn’t surprised to see that there were already several outfits around her on the bed, in varying states of completion. The two of them had a lot in common.

The shoe box in question was filled with tiny books, about the size of a quarter each. “How did you get so many?” she asked in confusion as she looked at the things.

Mary Jane didn’t even look up from the complicated pattern she was sewing onto the cloth. “People kept giving them to me.”

Of course they did. Mary Jane was built like a supermodel, and tended to be sweet. Everyone loved her; of  _course_ they all gave her presents of whatever was popular at the time.  She was perfect.

And Gwen’s insecurities were not Mary Jane’s problem. “How many can I have?” she asked instead. “I don’t know if they’ll get ruined,” she added.

“Just start with a handful. If he actually seems to read them, you can get more,” Mary Jane said.

“Thanks!”

Back to the house.  Now it had lights, rudimentary plumbing (solved with tanks at the top and the bottom), windows, bookshelves, books for the shelves, and a huge flat-screen TV (well, huge by chibi standards).  What was missing?

“Hey, Mom, can I have some of the rags from the bucket?”

“If you’re cleaning up oil—”

“Not for that!”

“Fine then.”

A bit of worn towel became a rug. Some cloth over cotton (how had that gotten in there?) became a chair. She was no Mary Jane, but soon she had a house full of chibi-sized furniture that looked—well, it didn’t look  _bad_ . Okay, yes, it looked bad, but it didn’t look  _horrible_ . Nothing that screamed  _let me tear my eyes out if I have to look at this any longer_ . It would do. She carefully cleaned and put away the tools and materials that she’d used, and went back into the house carrying the house. Her house, carrying Peter’s new house.

Her family looked up as she came in with it and, tired but satisfied from her work, set it on the table. Her stomach gave a low grumble and only then did she notice the table was set with food—and that she’d just put the brand new chibi house she’d made on her own plate. She flushed, set it on the floor, and took her seat.

Peter, sitting next to Ian’s plate, looked at her with concern. “Woo-ah?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. 

“What can Peter eat?” asked her mother as they started passing food.

Gwen shrugged. “Internet says chibis can eat anything a human can eat.”

“Do you like vegetables Peter?” asked Ian excitedly.

“You will eat your own vegetables,” their mother admonished gently.

Gwen felt tension she didn’t know she had leaving as they enjoyed a nice, simple family dinner.

“Fashion show after dinner,” Mary Jane said.

Gwen grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter explores his new home and Gwen learns something disturbing on the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did mention that there's plot to this, right? Because there is. :)

After dinner they cleared the table, did the dishes, and set up both the new clothes and the house for Peter to explore.  “I made hangers,” Gwen told Mary Jane as she took the top tank off and to the sink to fill it with water. “They’re in the closets.”

“You made closets?”

“Well, yeah. It’s a house, after all,” said Gwen absently as she reattached the tank. Mary Jane poked one of the inside doors to open a closet—complete with hangers.

“Okay, Peter,” said Gwen, “the house and clothes are ready for you to see them.” Ian gently set the chibi on the table in front of the house.

“Awoo?” asked Peter.

“Yup,” said Gwen. They watched as the little chibi raced through the two-level house, exploring it. He opened doors between rooms, found the closets and the hangers, and ran to one area that looked like a bathroom complete with tub, sink, and toilet. He turned the handles on the faucet and, to the surprise of almost everyone in the room except Gwen and Peter, water came out. “The water comes from the tank on the top and goes to the tank on the bottom,” Gwen explained as Peter turned the water off. Switches on the walls turned lights (from butchered fairy lights) turn on and off in the various rooms. One room, done up as an entertainment room, had a soft chair (more like a couch or a daybed, if she was honest), the smart phone hooked into the wall across from said chair, and a table with a lamp on it (another fairy light) next to the chair. Earbuds had been turned into speakers and Peter played with it for a little making the adults stare at Gwen as it worked. In another room, done similarly to a kitchen, there was a box for dry food, while there was another room done up like a bedroom (complete with curtains he could pull from the inside for privacy), and, of course, the library. He positively cooed when he saw the miniature books. He jumped from the top level to the table and looked up at Gwen before pointing towards the house and back to himself repeatedly. “All yours,” she told the little guy.

Peter jumped an insane height into the air with a huge whoop, ran to her  and hugged her hand as he rubbed his face over it. “Aw,” said her mother. “How sweet!”

“And that’s not all you get today,” said Mary Jane as she put the clothes she’d made on the table. “New clothes!” she said proudly.

“You,” said Gwen’s mother to the chibi, “will be _very_ well dressed. Mary Jane has excellent taste in clothes.”

“And is good at sewing,” said Gwen with a frown as she looked at the furniture in the little house. 

“Owoo?” asked Peter pointing at the clothes.

“Yes, those are for you,” Mary Jane said with a smile at the chibi. He pressed his hands to his cheeks and cooed in happiness making the humans around him chuckle.

“The books are also from Mary Jane,” Gwen said. “The phone was from Mom, the materials from James, and Ian helped keep you busy today while I got it all together.” She leaned down so that her eyes were on level with the tiny human’s. “Welcome to the family, Peter.”

Peter cooed and kissed her before grabbing a great armful of clothes to put in the house. Mary Jane waited to see what room he was putting them in before picking up the rest of the pile and depositing it there for him—but not before Gwen saw something disturbing. “Is that a lace teddy?” she asked pointing to one of the garments.

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. “ Everyone needs sexy nightclothes,” she informed her stepsister.

“He’s a chibi!” Which—given that they looked like miniature humans and ate pretty much the same kinds of food—meant almost nothing. “He’s the only chibi we have,” Gwen added, knowing this was a better argument.

Mary Jane shrugged as Peter closed the curtain in his room and clothing rustled. “For now,” she said reasonably.

“For _ever_ ,” stressed Gwen. “Seriously, do you have any idea how much these things usually are?”

“Life will find a way for us to have another one. I feel certain of it.” Mary Jane cheekily grinned at Gwen, green eyes glinting with mischief. “After all, look at the gerbils.”

Gwen shuddered. “I’d rather not,” she muttered. But—Mary Jane had a point. Every time in the past that they’d had a pet that needed to be socialized with another of its kind—another one would enter the house. Ian had found a guinea pig hiding in a storm drain while  it chirped for dear life. When they’d had a dog, Mary Jane had been waiting for the bus when a random stranger (Gwen wouldn't have believed it if she hadn’t been there to see it) had walked up to the then ten year-old girl and dumped a puppy into her arms before speed walking away. Then, there were the gerbils.

The curtains parted with flair and Peter displayed a cute long-sleeved top (that, impossibly, looked  _knit_ ) paired with what appeared to be a pair of blue jeans. “Oh, how adorable!” cooed Mary Jane prompting Peter to close the curtains, change (somewhat faster) again, and throw them open to show off—a punk rock leather look?

It looked as though Mary Jane had somehow managed to make some of almost every kind of style for Peter. “My God,” breathed Gwen, half in admiration and half in horror, “you made him some of everything!”

Mary Jane calmly tossed her hair over shoulder. “I sew fast,” she said simply, with a shrug. “And the house is impressive too.”

Gwen’s eyes drifted to the impossibly ugly furniture—which looked even worse, somehow, with Peter trying on such beautifully made clothes. Gwen winced. “If you say so,” she said, unconvinced.

In the middle of the fashion show Peter suddenly yawned hugely (Gwen, suspicious girl that she was, couldn't help but notice that the only things left to try on were the sexy clothes) and blinked rapidly. “Oh,” said Gwen’s mother, “it’s time for someone to go to bed. Gwen, please put the house in your room so we don’t disturb him while we watch TV.”

“Sure,” agreed Gwen as she picked up the little house and carried it to her room. She set it on her dresser and then leaned down to where she was level with the bedroom that Peter was in and whispered, “Good job.” Peter grinned, leaned out to kiss her cheek, and then climbed into his bed.

His poorly made bed. Gwen frowned. Maybe she could talk Mary Jane into branching out and making  him a proper mattress and pillow—and maybe a matching blanket. Hmm. Maybe it would be better to talk to her mother about that—the woman was obsessed with making sure everyone got the right amount of sleep.

Gwen left the room, closed the door so that Peter could sleep if he wanted, and then went out to join the rest of the family watching the news. They always watched the news together after dinner; Gwen wasn’t sure why. She curled up on the couch between Ian and Mary Jane as the news anchor began to give a story.

“Earlier today Benjamin Parker, humanitarian and volunteer at _Lives United_ , was found murdered in a local flea market. John is at the scene. John, what have you got for us?”

There was the mandatory pause as the camera shifted to the man covering the murder. The sky was black behind him which made the police vehicles. “As you can see Dana,” John yelled over the background noise, “police are still combing the area for clues. Mr. Parker was found murdered in his truck earlier. The authorities won’t give any details,” John added, sounding a little miffed at the refusal of the police to give him sordid details for his viewers, “but they’re looking hard for the culprit, and the flea market is closed until further notice.”

“Oh, my God,” said Mary Jane in horror as they watched the story. “That’s the market we were at this morning!”

The news went back to the newsroom and Dana shook her head at the audience. “Truly a terrible thing,” she told them. “The police have set up a hot line for anyone who has any details that might give them a lead into the murder.” A picture appeared in the top right of the screen and Gwen stared in horror as the newscaster mentioned the man leaving behind his poor wife.

Benjamin Parker was the old man who had given her Peter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm getting a lot more traffic (and feedback) on the other story, so I'm probably going to concentrate on it for a while. Comment if you want more in this one. (There'll be more regardless, I just want comments.) :)

“Because Mary Jane and I were at the flea market this afternoon,” Gwen said into the phone, “and we’re freaking out a little bit.” She paced the floor of Mary Jane’s room as Mary Jane curled around her stuffed rabbit (that she’d had since she four) as she watched and listened worriedly. “If it was a random attacker—if the murdered person could have been _anybody—_ ” Gwen trailed off and chewed on her bottom lip nervously.

Well, that was why  _Mary Jane_ was nervous. If the person murdered could have been  _anybody—_ it could have been one of them, easily. They might have just survived by the skin of their teeth.

Gwen didn’t think it was a random attack. She thought back to what the old man had said about Peter. The old man had said that he was going to move in with his daughter, and his daughter didn’t like chibis. No—thinking back, at no point had the man used the word “chibi.” Mary Jane was the first to do that. He’d  said his daughter didn’t like  _“little people”_ and according to the news, his only surviving relative was his wife.

Then again, Gwen had a tendency to over-analyze situations. Sometimes the simplest solution was the correct one. Besides, what were the chances that the old man was killed because of a chibi?

A sigh ruffled through the line. “I can’t give you details,” her father, Chief of Police, said wearily. “But the broad strokes are—it wasn’t random, and it wasn’t a mugging.”

Gwen felt her stomach drop and fill with ice. “Yeah?” she asked.

She could hear paper rustle in the background. “Yeah. We have witnesses that five men surrounded him at the market. The witness remembered it, because they’d said that Benjamin—the man who was killed—was under arrest and they weren’t dressed like police.”

“What were they dressed like?” asked Gwen with curiosity.

“According to the witness? She said they looked like stockbrokers.”

“Okay. Thanks Dad.”

“No problem. And Gwen?”

“Yeah?”

She could hear her father swallow hard. “Try not to go anywhere alone, not for at least a few weeks. Tell Mary Jane too.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

They hung up and Gwen sat on the bed next to Mary Jane, who was curled impossibly small. She reached out and gently hugged her stepsister. “Dad says it wasn’t random,” she said as reassuringly as possible. 

“Um-hmm,” hummed Mary Jane.

“Dad says the old man was targeted,” Gwen continued. She began to rub gentle circles on Mary Jane’s back.

“Hmm.”

“So, we were never in danger.”

Mary Jane turned her head to look at Gwen, eyes dark and serious. “Then what made you freeze?” she asked.

“What?”

“What was it your father said that made you freeze?”

Gwen sighed. Most of the time Mary Jane acted like such an air head it was easy to forget that she had a tendency to notice things and put random bits of information together. “That it wasn’t random,” Gwen admitted.

“What?” Mary Jane stared at her stepsister.

Gwen sighed and curled up on the bed next to Mary Jane. Unlike Gwen’s room, where the dominant colors were brown and green, Mary Jane’s room (and the quilt on her bed) was blue and pink. “The old man,” she said softly, not wanting her mother to hear, “is the one who gave me Peter.”

“But—that means you’ve got to talk to the police!” protested Mary Jane, keeping her voice down.

“Does it?” asked Gwen. “Think about this for a moment. Best case scenario is that they decide Peter is evidence, and take him to the kennel while the evidence is processed, like they do for other pets.” Mary Jane nodded jerkily. “Now, let’s assume that the old man was killed _because_ he had Peter. If I talk to the police and Peter goes to the kennel, then he’ll be taken by people who were _willing to kill_.” The police kennels were ridiculously easy to get into; she should know. After all, she used to break into them all the time. Gwen shook her head. “He’s safer here, which means I can’t tell the police. Besides, they already have a witness, and the witness didn’t mention me _at all_.” If the mysterious witness had been able to even give a vague description of Gwen, then _she_ wouldn't have been the one calling her father—he would have contacted her if he had drive right up to the Watson house to do it.

“That—that’s true,” said Mary Jane. She bit her own lip. Gwen pulled her into a hug. “What are you going to do now?” she asked as she was released.

“First, I’m going to tell Peter that the last person to own him died, and then I’m going to hold him while he cries.”

Mary Jane blinked in surprise. “Do you think he’ll understand?” she asked.

Gwen snorted as she remembered the intense look on the little chibi’s face as her brother was explaining that “B is for bomb.” “I think,” Gwen said firmly, “that he understands a lot more than most of us give him credit for.” Mary Jane nodded and Gwen hugged her again before heading across the hall to her own room and closing the door.

Normally Gwen didn’t bother closing her door unless she was changing clothes; it was a hassle. The door didn’t fit quite right into the frame (again, Gwen’s fault) so she had manually lift the door up to get the latch to click, and had to lift it up again to make it disengage. She went over to the new house on her dresser and gently tapped the wood in front of it. “Peter?” she asked softly. “Can I talk to you?”

The chibi pulled the bedroom curtains open and looked at her with curiosity. “Woo?” he asked as he cocked his head at her, amber eyes staring.

Gwen’s throat closed. She didn’t have to do this. She could let him live believing the old man was fine and living a happy life somewhere.

Except—Gwen didn’t believe in lying to children, and Peter was kind of like a kid. “Peter,” she said softly, “we were watching the news.” They stared at each other for a moment as she tried to figure out what the best way to break the news was. She decided to be as blunt as possible, “Peter, the old man who gave you to me? He died today.” She spoke as gently as possible.

Peter’s little face crinkled and she held out a hand just in time for him to tumble into it. She held him close to her as he sobbed (quiet, almost silent sobs instead of the loud wailing she expected) and gently rubbed his back with a finger while he cried. The poor thing was so broken up and grieving.

_I’m going to protect you_ , she silently promised.  _No one will ever hurt you._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weekday morning in the Watson home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment.

“Gwen, it doesn’t look like you slept at all,” Gwen’s mother scolded as Gwen waited for the coffee to brew.

“Peter kept having nightmares,” she mumbled as the last drop hissed into the pot. She grabbed her cup and poured some in it. Of course the little chibi had nightmares—he’d learned that the old man, who had (presumably) loved him, had died. Gwen didn’t go into detail, and didn’t tell Peter that the old man was murdered—but still.

“Maybe I shouldn't have introduced him to the gerbils,” Ian said worriedly.

Gwen turned to face her little brother. “You what?” she asked. He knew very well how dangerous the gerbils were. “Why?” she asked. No _wonder_ poor little Peter had had nightmares!

“He got along great with the guinea pigs,” Ian explained, “and the gerbils are smaller.”

That—actually made sense. Gwen sighed and took several gulps of her coffee. “The guinea pigs,” Gwen explained, “are not evil.”

Gwen’s mother rolled her eyes. “The _gerbils_ aren’t evil,” she protested.

Even here, in the kitchen, Gwen could hear the every present scratching as the gerbils tried to escape their thick plastic tub. “They’re close enough,” she said grimly. Gwen’s mother scoffed and rolled her eyes—but they still used Gwen’s lever-pully system to feed the things so that no actual body parts had to get in biting contact with the gerbils.

“They seemed to like Peter,” Ian protested. “They all swarmed the side of the tank he was on, but he started to get scared so I took him back to my room.”

“That was good,” Gwen said absently. The gerbils swarmed towards Peter? Well, he was a lot closer to their size than a human was. No wonder he’d been frightened; poor thing.

Mary Jane stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep. Even mussed from sleeping, her hair looked perfect—more artful than messy. Her half-lidded, sleepy face looked adorable—and not like she was a horror movie extra, like Gwen looked first thing in the morning.

Ian, the only one who knew about Gwen’s complicated feelings towards Mary Jane, looked up warily. “Gwen,” he said.

“Right.” Gwen downed the rest of her coffee. “Time to walk you to the bus stop,” she said as she rinsed the cup out and put it by the sink.

“Gwen—”

“I’ll eat when I get back,” she assured her mother.

Ian grabbed his bag and then Gwen noticed something. “Ian,” she said as they left the house, “what’s that in your bag?”

“Well,” Ian said as he shifted, not looking at Gwen, “we can bring pets to school today.”

“And?” asked Gwen. He wouldn't be shifty if he’d just grabbed one of the guinea pigs—oh no. No, he wouldn’t think it was okay to take one of the _gerbils_ to school, would he? How would he even get one out of the tub without getting injured? He wasn’t injured was he?

Ian squeaked as Gwen suddenly grabbed both hands, checking for bites and scratches. “Gwen!” he protested.

“Sorry,” she said as she released him. “I was just—afraid you’d grabbed a gerbil, that’s all.”

“How would I—oh. Oh, no. I know better.”

“Ian, you just introduced Peter to the gerbils.” Gwen glared at her little brother as they walked to the stop. “I had to make sure you didn’t forget how dangerous they are.”

“Why are they still alive?” asked Ian.

“Mom feels responsible for them.”

“Why?”

Good question. Gwen sighed. “I don’t know. So, who are you taking? Moon? Knight?” The two guinea pigs were excellent pets to take to school. The dogs, each only slightly shorter than Ian himself, obviously would not fit in the book bag.

“Peter.”

Gwen stared at her little brother, aghast as he pulled out the travel sphere (gotten for the guinea pigs) with Peter in it. The chibi grinned and waved at Gwen while burbling happily. “What? Ian—”

“Well, he shouldn't be alone!” protested Ian. “He had nightmares last night!”

Gwen mentally retraced the morning conversation. “Try again,” she ordered.

Ian sighed. “I keep forgetting who I’m talking to,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” said Gwen. Neither of them really needed the reminder that he’d blown up—or imploded the workshop and she’d taken the blame. She still didn’t know what he’d been doing, but she’d gotten him several chemistry books on the sly and it hadn’t happened again.

“I saw your face during the news last night. You got Peter from that old man who was murdered, didn’t you?”

“Awoo?” asked Peter as his head darted between the two of them.

Gwen winced. She hadn’t told the chibi his previous owner had been murdered. “Yeah,” she admitted.

“People have cell phones. Not you, but normal people.”

“ _I_ have a cell phone.”

Ian snorted. “A flip phone does not count,” the seven year-old informed her loftily. “And people take pictures with them _all the time_. Like, without thinking. There are computer programs that can be used to mine for certain pictures; studios use them all time to enforce copyrights. They’re not that hard to come by, and we’re not that hard to find. I figured it would be better if Peter wasn’t home alone today.”

Gwen reached out and gently tousled her little brother’s hair. “You’re a good egg,” she approved as the sky blue school bus with red hand prints (actual hand prints, not screen pictures like some schools used) pulled up and opened its doors. “Have a good day at school, and tell your teacher if anything happens to either of you he can expect a visit from me.”

“Later Gwen!” Ian called back as he hopped onto the bus.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this was a difficult chapter to write.

“Morning Gwen,” Emma, Gwen’s friend, said as Gwen slipped her lunch into her locker. “You actually plan on eating today?” she asked.

Gwen frowned at Emma. As the only two natural blonds in school they’d been thrown together by their classmates. “I eat,” she said. “I had breakfast.” She did, didn’t she? She must have—her mother wouldn't have let her leave the house without it.

Emma opened her mouth to speak as a walking commotion, in the form of Flash, football team quarterback, and Mary Jane, his ex-girlfriend, walking by. Well, Mary Jane was walking by; Flash was following at her heels like a dejected puppy. “What happened there?” Emma asked as the two went by.

Gwen sighed. “Mary Jane and I went to the flea market yesterday only to see Flash there with Janie.”

Emma turned, eyes wide. “No,” she breathed.

“Yup.” Neither one of them had thought that Flash, known for bedding as many girls as possible, would keep to his monogamous streak with Mary Jane. There had been bets through the school as to who he’d break the streak with first—and _no one_ had picked Janie. It wasn’t that Janie was ugly, or that there was something wrong with—it was that Janie just didn’t seem interested. In anyone, male or female.

“Why was Janie with him?” asked Emma, voicing Gwen’s own question.

Gwen sighed and shut her locker. “I don’t know. Haven’t really spoken to either of them,” she admitted.

“What did Mary Jane say?”

“She said, ‘cute pet, can I make clothes for it’?” Gwen shrugged and slung her backpack against her shoulder.

“Cute pet?” Emma was clearly confused.

“I got a chibi.”

“How?”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Someone gave him to me. How do you think?” The two of them started walking to their first period—by coincidence they shared first period study hall together. “Ignoring the drama of my stepsister and her ex, anything new?”

“Yup.” Emma slowed her step and lowered her voice so that Gwen would be the only one to hear her. The way she did it looked perfectly natural to the teachers watching them. “New guy applying to work Friday nights at Sister’s.”

“Oh?” asked Gwen thoughtfully. “And what was our dear manager say?”

“Your decision.”

Gwen frowned. The only time Weasel, manager (sort of), owner, and bartender of Sister’s said that hiring a new person on Friday nights (the night of the week the crowd was teenagers from the high school and early college) was when he had a bad feeling and wanted Gwen to run interference. She was protective of the old guy and his business—and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was getting a cut of his Friday night (and only his Friday night) business. “Interesting,” Gwen drawled. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Never heard of him. Goes by Goblin; DJ with a little on the side.”

Meaning he dealt in drugs as well. Gwen snorted. “Goblin?” she asked. “Really?”

“Really. And I’ve _heard_ ,” she said stressing the word, “that his stuff’s amazingly hardcore.”

“Doesn’t sound like it should be allowed,” Gwen said calmly.

Emma shrugged, as though _she_ didn’t have a stake in it as well. “Up to you,” she said cheerfully as they entered the hall.

Gwen, since her father was the chief of police, had resources few others did. “I guess it’s research time,” she said as the two of them took their seats near the back of the auditoreum.

Suddenly Flash, who also had first period study hall, slammed his hands on the arms of Gwen’s seat. “You have to help me with Mary Jane,” he said desperately.

Gwen sighed. “Flash,” she said bluntly, “you’re an idiot.”

“What?”

Emma began to giggle as Gwen rubbed her eyes. “Think about what you’re doing. Think about what it looks like. Do you _really_ think Mary Jane is going to listen to anything _I_ have to say after she hears about _this_?”

“And,” Emma added cruelly, “that’s not even counting what the coach might do to you for threatening a _girl_.”

“What?” Flash looked both panicked and confused. “I’m not—” He looked around, groaned in frustration, and then hurried off to another section of the study hall as he glared daggers at anyone looking at him strangely.

“ _That’s_ going to blow up by lunch,” said Emma.

Gwen noticed how many of her fellow study hall students had their phones out. “By second period,” she predicted.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's day at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we all know that Peter isn't a normal chibi at this point. I'll introduce some normal ones so you can see just how abnormal later. And the first (not last) fight scene. Yay. (Sorry, I know I suck at those.)
> 
> Oh, and Ian is in a school for "gifted" children--each and every single one of his classmates is amazing in some way or another.
> 
> Also: shout out to my favorite comic strip of all time! :)

Peter wasn’t very good with darkness. He had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t in the lab, that he wasn’t suddenly going to be joined by water, or sand, or whatever the people in charge of the lab had decided to put in his tank at that moment. He wasn’t in the lab—Uncle Ben had gotten him out.

“ _Just call me Uncle Ben.”_

Peter still remembered the way the old man’s cheeks had creased when he spoke.  Wrinkles on humans fascinated him, because chibis didn’t wrinkle. Well, not unless they’d been in water for a long time… 

“And what have you got today?” demanded a suspicious voice, breaking Peter out of his thoughts.

Light pierced the sky as the book bag he was in was opened and the sphere taken out. “This is Peter. He’s my sister’s chibi.”

Peter blinked up into the face an elderly man. He had wrinkles like Uncle Ben—but he looked crankier. Peter waved at the old man.

“Ian,” said the man, “I will not tolerate nonsense in my school.”

“I’m not _Gwen_ ,” protested Ian with a slight whine to his voice. Peter tried to ask why that was important—but humans couldn't understand chibi.

The old man sniffed. “Well,” he said darkly, “ you’d better not cause any trouble. I remember your  _sister_ .”

Ian waved as the old man walked away and then headed in the opposite direction down the hall. “Stupid old man,” the boy muttered.

“Awoo?” asked Peter. What did Ian mean? What was the interaction about?

“ ‘I remember your sister’,” Ian repeated, clearly mocking. Peter was familiar with mocking, and it disturbed him to hear it from the sweet boy. “How Gwen ever tolerated that guy—”

“Woo,” said Peter as he pat the plastic closest to the boy in an effort to comfort him. Several of the children they passed were holding pets, cages, and bags of some kind.

They entered a brightly painted door to a classroom and saw a woman, a kind looking woman, smile at them. “Good morning Ian,” said the woman.

“Good morning Ms. Summers,” said Ian. A loud buzzer went off and the woman closed the door behind the two of them as Ian went to a bright yellow plastic seat.

“All right class,” Ms. Summers said as she stood in front of the room, “I see a lot of you brought pets today. Please remember that if your pets act up, it will reflect on _you_. Now, let’s introduce ourselves, shall we?”

A  girl with hair done up in tight, curly braids on either side of her head bounced up to the front of the room holding a  small cage with a wire clasp holding it shut . “This is Sunshine!” she said brightly. “She’s a gerbil.”

Peter eyed the  cage warily. Sunshine didn’t  _look_ like the freakishly frightening things that he associated with the word “gerbil”. Sunshine looked small, sweet, and stupid as it gazed around the room.

“Welcome to class Sunshine,” Ms. Summers said gently without looking. The girl grinned and put the cage on a table before she went back to her seat.

Ian picked up the ball and walked to the front of the class. “This is my sister’s chibi,” he said proudly. “His name is Peter.”

Peter waved at the children. “Ay-yo!” he called to them.

“Nice to meet you Peter,” said Ms. Summers in exactly the same tone of voice she used for the girl and her gerbil. Ian put the ball next to the cage and Peter eyed the gerbil warily. It blinked at him and then burrowed in the soft looking stuff at the bottom of its cage. 

The next pet was a bird. The cage was on wheels and it was almost the same size as the little boy who pulled it up. “This is Thaddeus. He’s Dad’s.”

“The percentage is off by three!” the parrot shrieked.

That sounded—eerily familiar to Peter. For a moment he saw the pristine white walls of the lab again, smelled the harsh disinfectant, and saw the terrifying white coats.  He saw them coming for him again.

“Nice to meet you Thaddeus.” Ms. Summers’s voice broke the spell holding Peter captive.

The bird was wheeled towards the table as a blonde boy with messy hair made his way to the front of the class holding a paper bag. “Calvin,” said Ms. Summers warily.

“No worries Teach,” said Calvin with too much familiarity. He held up the paper bag. “Minions of the school system—behold!” He dramatically opened the empty bag. He quickly looked around and then dropped to look under the desks.

“Calvin,” said Ms. Summers, a dark warning in her voice.

“Uh, uh—no problem Ms. Summers,” said Calvin looking around. He stood up and smiled weakly at his classmates. “Just checking—everyone’s had their shots, right?”

“Calvin!”

Calvin quickly hurried to his desk. “No reason!” he said as he walked. “No reason at all! And I am definitely not recommending people keep their feet off the floor—nope, not me!”  He hopped into his chair and prominently put his feet on the table.

That was the last child up at the front of the class and Ms. Summers begins to teach. Peter watches with wonder as she used the letters Ian had showed him to form  _words_ . Words that everybody understood. Words that could be put together to make stories. 

Peter’s wonder was cut short by a low growl, almost too low for him to hear and he turned in the ball. There was a n odd creature next to the cage the gerbil was in. It was twice as long as Peter was tall, thick around, covered in patchy fur and peeling skin and its one yellow eye was focused on the gerbil—which was squeaking desperately as it tried to escape.

None of the humans seemed to notice. Peter watched,  horrified, as the twitchy little nose pressed between the bars of the cage and the gerbil cowered at the other end of it. He had to do something.

He had to get out of his ball. He quickly rolled to where he could access the hatch and, remembering how it had gone on in the first place, Peter managed to twist and push the top open before colliding with the strange creature. It turned its yellow, one-eyed gaze on Peter and its lips pulled back from sharp teeth. It dove for Peter.

Peter was faster. He jumped as it dove towards him and soared over most of its body—only to come down, hard, on the tail. The creature let out a thin, high pitched squeak.

Several of the children looked around, trying to find the source of the sound.

The creature warily stalked around Peter on the table.  Peter kept it in front of him, waiting until it was in just the right place—now! He rushed forward, stuck his hands to the table, and then  _pushed_ with his legs to send the creature into the cage of the bird—which fluttered and squawked drawing attention as Peter tried to climb back into his ball—only to send the gerbil’s cage, which was teetering on the edge of the table, off and onto the floor.

“Sunshine!” cried the girl. Her tone was heartbreaking and Peter would have tried to go to her to comfort her (or at least make sure the gerbil was still alive) except he remembered the old man.

“ _You’d better not cause any trouble.”_

He remembered Ms. Summers.

“ _Remember that if your pets act up, it will reflect on_ you _.”_

Peter dove into the ball and tried to wrestle the top into place. Suddenly the ball was picked up and he looked up, panicked—only to see Ian who quickly clicked the top in. “Peter’s fine!” Ian said with relief holding up the ball.

Peter, panting heavily, waved again. “Ay-yo!” he said once again.

“Look! It’s Cable!” Calvin grabbed the creature and didn’t even twitch as it twisted to sink fangs into his skin. “And he’s fine,” Calvin added as blood beaded around the creature’s mouth and he held out to the teacher.

“CALVIN, GET THAT THING OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, thoughts, concerns? Please comment. Like this fic? Please comment. Don't like this fic? Please comment.
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment at Sister's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weasel has a cameo! Hi, Weasel! :)
> 
> Seriously, this is more of a half chapter, but only because I wanted to get as much of it out on Father's Day as possible. Go Dad! :)

The club was empty save for five people. Of course, that really wasn’t unusual at four in the afternoon. It was far more unusual that there were people there at this time of day at all.

Gwen calmly mixed four drinks behind the bar. They had no alcohol in them; she _was_ underage, after all. She loaded the shot glasses on a tray along with bottles of beer, cans of energy drinks, and bottles of water. She’d let the new people choose what they were going to do.

“This is my first time negotiating with a waitress.”

Gwen snorted. “Momma raised me polite,” she said affecting a Southern accent as she took the tray to the table the man was sitting at. She set the tray down and picked up one of the shot glasses. Weasel, standing nervously behind her, watched as she held the bright orange, pink, and silver drink. “Bottoms up,” she said with a smile before downing.

Gwen had never been able to see the appeal of alcohol. Sneaking behind the law to mess with your brain and perception just to have fun? The exact same thing could be accomplished with nothing more than chemicals that were all _legal_.

The drink burned down her throat and she felt the odd, dislocated buzz that always came with it. The three men opposite her followed her example with the drink—but then two of them grabbed energy drinks while the third grabbed a beer. Gwen, knowing exactly what she’d just had, grabbed a bottle of water.

“So,” said Gwen as they took their disastrous first sips, “you want to play—and sell—to the Friday night crowd.” She leaned back in her seat as she took a sip of her water. “You might not want more than that. The drink may _look_ innocuous, but it packs a punch.”

The man in the middle smiles condescendingly at her. “I think we can handle it.”

Gwen smiled back mildly as Weasel twitched. “Good to know,” she said.

“So, I understand that for my DJ to work here, I need to get _your_ approval,” the man said as he eyed her.

Gwen’s smile didn’t change. “There are other clubs in town. Even clubs that cater to an—older demographic. You have a problem with me, you can take your DJ and your wares to _them_.” She shrugged again. “Or out of town altogether. I really don’t care.”

“I don’t think you understand how—popular my DJ is.”

“I don’t think you understand how much I don’t care.” She sighed and took another sip of her water. The two men on either side were already starting to sweat, and the one in the middle was swaying slightly. “Your DJ will be in town for, what, three weeks max? Sister’s will still be here when the DJ is gone.” Her smile widened. “And if the club is quiet, I can experiment with the drinks again.”

All of them ignored the choking noise that Weasel made and the man in front of her drank more of his beer. “You—” he said as he reeled slightly in his seat. The two on either side made to stand up.

All three of them collapsed into their chairs and Gwen sighed. “I assume,” she said to Weasel as she pulled out a piece of paper and a pen to write a note, “that you have their boss’s contact info?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Weasel warily. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving a note.” She grabbed some tape and taped her message to the middle one’s forehead. Then she grabbed her bag. “Call their boss to pick them up,” she told him as she pulled out her own phone.

“Is this a good idea?” asked Weasel.

Gwen looked at her handiwork and smirked. “Of course it is. I—”

The door opened and Gwen’s father strode into the club. He looked at the three collapsed men as Weasel went to hide behind the bar. “What happened?” he asked wearily.

Gwen’s parents both knew that she had a—contract with Sister’s. Her father was the only one of the two who’d actually _read_ it, and he while he didn’t like it, he did admit that she had several good points. It helped that Weasel pointed out she was helping him market to the booming “sober-curious” crowd, and it helped even more that she was getting revenue from this endeavor that she was saving for college.

He still didn’t _like_ it. He knew, all too well, the dangers inherent in a club, especially one like Sister’s. He still didn’t trust that Gwen wasn’t making a fatal mistake and was terrified that one day he’d be called to a scene at Sister’s only to have to deal with Gwen—broken, dying, or dead.

Gwen watched her father read the note. “Gwen,” he said warningly.

“What? I don’t _care_ how popular this Goblin guy is,” she told him. “I don’t want him playing here.”

“Goblin?” Gwen suddenly had her father’s attention and he was in work mode. “They work for Goblin?”

Gwen snorted. “No, they work for the guy who _uses_ Goblin.”

Her father blinked at her through his glasses before turning to the bar where Weasel was cleaning like his life depended on it. “Weasel, you said that whatever Gwen says about the Friday night crowd goes.”

“That’s the contract,” Weasel said without looking up from his task.

“Good.” Gwen’s father put an arm between her shoulders and steered her towards the car. “There are some things,” he said grimly, “that you need to know.”

Gwen caught a glance of the three men, her note prominently in the middle, as they left. In elegant cursive she had written a single sentence; a warning.

_Don’t send amateurs to talk to me._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen talks to her father about Goblin and the drugs that follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right my lovely audience--trigger warnings! There are drugs, and drug side effects, mentioned in this chapter. While Gobby Gas is a fictional drug of my own creation and SSS was created by the lovely Her11 and is, in fact, fictional--I tried to keep the effects as realistic as possible. If you have trouble with this, DON'T READ THIS CHAPTER. Wait for the next one. All you need to know is that both drugs royally suck and have been created to make chaos. That is all.

“Evening Gwen,” called one of the officers as Gwen was marched into the office. “Getting in trouble again?”

Gwen gave the street officer a wink. “Me?” she asked with faux innocence as she bat her blue eyes. They laughed, as expected.

Her father didn’t. Normally he did. Instead he firmly steered her into his office, closed the door, and shut the blinds. “What do you know about the Goblin?” he asked grimly.

“That he’s apparently a killer DJ who’s involved in the drug business and answers to a guy who sends middle men to negotiations for his job.” She watched as he got on his computer and printed something before handing the papers to her. “What’s this?”

“The drugs that appear at the Goblin’s parties,” her father replied grimly.

Gwen knew her father had an oddly relaxed view of drugs. He divided them into three different categories: mostly harmless and almost legal, _should_ be illegal, and Dear God don’t. Gwen herself had adapted a similar system—while the drink she’d mixed and served was _technically_ not illegal—it really should have been. But—it didn’t stay in the system and if the person taking it was smart (pft; smart drug users), it didn’t do much damage. In addition to that, it wasn’t addictive. Someone could do one of her shots and never _need_ another one.

“Gobby Gas?” she asked as she read through the drugs and its effects. “Holy Shit!” she swore vibrantly as she looked up at her father in horror. “Seriously?”

He merely gestured, keeping his mouth in a thin, tight line. “Keep reading.”

Side effects included paranoia, hallucinations (both visual and audio), and, bizarrely, cartilage tears. It was also highly addictive. “Why would anyone take this?” she demanded.

Her father sighed and finally sat down. “They don’t choose to. At about a third of the parties that Goblin is the DJ for—the place is gassed. I’m guessing their people get out before the gas goes and the guests get—savage—but that’s what happens.”

Gwen’s mind raced down the possible list of reasons. Sure, she was familiar with how dealers would give a “taste” of their product to get people hooked on it, the stuff they used to keep customers coming back until the very last cent. That was one thing.

This was on a whole different level. If the purpose of mass gassing a party was to get all of the attendees addicted to the drug—why not do _something_ to give people a line to reach when they want more of it? Even the most basic dealer knew that—you couldn’t get money from a customer who couldn’t _find you_.

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“No. But it does make for bodies.” Gwen looked up in shock and he nodded. “Gobby Gas gives people a rush of adrenaline so fierce that they can slam a punch into someone and the arm keeps going—right out of joint. The scenes are brutal.”

Gwen’s father had worked Vice in a large city for fourteen years before they’d all picked up and moved out of the city. She didn’t want to know what he’d classify as “brutal.” She continued down the list. “SSS?” she asked.

“Also known as Super Soldier Serum.” The grim words were spat out.

The stats on SSS were almost as grim as the ones on Gobby Gas, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out that they had been cooked up by the same sadistic mind. But where Gobby Gas was destructive chaos inhaled, SSS was a lot more subtle. The dealers for SSS knew _exactly_ where their clients were coming from—they targeted athletes. They worked like every other dealer Gwen knew.

But the drug—the drug was insane. If she was reading these charts right it boosted testosterone (but wasn’t _actually testosterone_ ) while at the same time slowly blocking connections in the brain. Specifically, to the right supramarginal gyrus—the part of the brain the controls empathy. Prolonged use of the drug seemed to actually _sever_ those connections, instead of just blocking them. A lethal cocktail of all the side effects of increased testosterone combined with taking the breaks off.

Gwen swallowed thickly. “I’ve never—I’ve never heard of it before,” she said slowly, wishing she’d grabbed another bottle of water.

“The two drugs follow the Goblin wherever he goes.” Her father got up and slowly paced the office. “I need you to be careful Gwen. I don’t like that this has come to our town, and I don’t like how visible you’ve made yourself.”

Maybe taunting the minions of a mind capable of coming up with these drugs hadn’t been the best idea. Gwen wasn’t going to lose sleep over it. She had made her mess—and she’d clean it up. “I’ll try to be safe Dad,” she said gently.

Gwen’s father twitched. He scoffed. He shuffled his feet. Suddenly he had burst out into loud, raucous laughter. “You!” he gasped as he grasped the edge of his desk to keep from falling over. “Careful!”

Gwen’s lips twitched up in amusement as she thought of her weekly life. She had that coming.


	12. Chapter 12

“So, Peter can’t go to school with Ian any more,” Gwen’s mother explained.

Gwen looked across the dinner table where Ian sat, playing with his vegetables with his fork as Peter sat next to his plate, occasionally filching food from the boy. Hmm. They might have to feed the chibi more—it looked like he was still hungry. “Calvin brought a  _what_ ?”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t get a good look before animal control took it away. You should have heard the yelling.”

“Before or after I read the paper saying you need Rabies shots?” demanded their mother tartly.

“What are we going to do with Peter?” asked Mary Jane as she looked up from her plate. “We can’t leave him home alone.”

Gwen had an idea. She had a rotten, horrible idea.  But there was no reason that it couldn't work. “Is there a reason he can’t come to school with me?”

“Your school doesn’t allow pets,” James pointed out.

“I think they’d be understanding. Especially if _you_ asked them, Mom.”

Gwen’s mother looked at her—and then laughed. “They would, wouldn't they?” she asked, amused. “All right. We’ll head to the school together tomorrow.”

“Do I want to know?” asked James with an unreadable expression.

“Probably not,” said Gwen’s mother breezily. “Oh, Gwen, I heard you went to Sister’s today.”

“Yeah,” admitted Gwen. “Weasel had a sampling party for a sober curious group who wanted to test the stuff. It didn’t go well; I don’t think they’ll be back.”

Mary Jane, who knew considerably more about Gwen’s involvement with club than her mother did, looked at her stepsister. “They won’t be back?” she asked, for clarification.

Gwen shrugged. “Not to  _our_ club,” she reassured.

Mary Jane, who went to the club more often than their parents knew, nodded. James turned to Ian. “So, what happened with Calvin’s pet.”

“It bit him. Calving didn’t seem to notice.” 

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Of course he didn’t.” She strongly suspected that Calvin was possessed. Or an alien. Or really,  _desperately_ needed to be on some kind of medication.

After dinner she put Peter in his house and then spoke to him. “All right,” she said firmly. “Let’s try something new. Peter, do you mind trying to sleep with the light on? See if that helps the nightmares?” The chibi shook his head quickly. “All right. There you go,” she said as he turned on the light in the curtained bedroom and then closed the curtain. “Feel free to call out if it’s not working.”

In the morning the school did, in fact, cave to her mother. Gwen hadn’t expected anything less; her mother knew everyone and wasn’t afraid to leverage the knowledge. She was a lot like her mother. 

Carmelita, cheerleader and overall bitch, decided to call Gwen on the chibi. “Did you have to bring your ‘pet’ to school?” she demanded staring at the small cage (she did  _not_ believe in carrying a giant guinea pig ball with her) that Gwen was holding as she exchanged books in her locker.

“What’s the matter Carmen?” asked Gwen as sweetly as she could. “Did your pet run away from you again?” She closed the locker and turned to smile at the cheerleader.

The cheerleader with her boyfriend behind her. The same boyfriend who actually thought that Gwen and Carmelita were  _friends_ . No wonder the guy was floundering to make the minimum GPA requirements for staying on the team. “Is that a chibi? What’s his name?” the boyfriend asked.

He missed the glare that Carmelita shot him and Gwen smiled. “This is Peter. He’s the only chibi we have, and they have to have socialization. Which is why he’s here with me today?”

“I’m surprised he isn’t at school with your little brother. Don’t they allow pets?”

Gwen snorted. “Not anymore.”

From what she understood the conversation had gone like this:

Teacher: I’m sorry, but we can no longer allow children to bring their pets to class. Since we don’t want to single out any one child, none of them will be allowed.

Calvin’s Mother: Feel free to single him out. We all know whose fault this is.

“So,” continued Carmelita’s boyfriend, “about that quiz in Mr. Jones’s class…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not backtracking. This will actually be important later.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday night Homecoming. Does not go as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So--is this still going well? This is my first major time-skip in the story--I went straight from Monday to Friday, but nothing important really happened on the days in between. Is it too confusing?

Peter sat in his chair (Mary Jane had made better cushions for the furniture) reading one of his miniature books while Gwen sat on her bed, doing homework. Mary Jane peeked into the room, in a shiny dark green dress that highlighted her eyes and hair swept up in an elegant hairstyle. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” she asked gently.

Gwen snorted. “And listen to all the idiots blather on stupidly about hair, the football game, and _ohmygosh, you’ll never_ believe _what he/she did_.” Gwen shook her head as she jotted down the answer to a question. “Thank you; I’ll pass. You go have fun.”

Mary Jane gave her sister a small, sweet smile. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Go. Dance. Gossip. Have fun.” Gwen waved at the redhead, who chuckled and then left the room. Gwen’s phone suddenly blew up with texts and she opened them absently.

**Emma: You won’t believe who came.**

**Janie: It _wasn’t_ a date! I don’t date!**

**Rabbit: They’ve got Mr. Pym watching the drinks! Anyone know how to get around him?**

Gwen snorted and looked at Peter who was watching her curiously. “See,” she explained, “I’ve got all the best parts of the dance on this phone and I _don’t_ have to socialize with anyone. It’s awesome.”

“Woo,” cooed Peter softly before going back to his book.

Gwen grinned; he looked adorable in the padded chair, next to the fairy light end table. The dark red and gold fabric that Mary Jane had used looked lush and comfortable. It must have been, since Peter was still sitting in it. With Mary Jane’s blessing, they’d filled up the library of the little house with all of her miniature books.

Gwen went back to her homework, using her phone to keep a weather eye on the dance. She wouldn't be surprised if she had to ride to the rescue—again. Another reason to stay home.

**Emma: I thought there was a restraining order against Mary Jane’s mom?**

Gwen quickly sat up from where she’d been lounging while contemplating chemistry and quickly reread the text. No. There was no way. The bitch wouldn't dare—not after last time. Would she?

**Gwen: There is. Why?**

**Emma: She’s here at the dance. She’s talking to Mary Jane right now.**

**Gwen: Flash, Mary Jane’s mom is at the dance. Run interference until I can get there.**

**Flash: I can’t get away right now.**

**Gwen: Then send someone who can! Your GF is about to be kidnapped!**

Gwen swung her legs over the side of the bed to see Peter looking at her. “Awee!” he said firmly.

“What? No!” She glared at the chibi. “You have no idea how dangerous that woman is.” Peter merely launched himself across the room and she scrambled to catch him before he fell. “You—” She met a pair of determined little eyes as Peter grabbed her jacket.

“Awoo,” he said firmly.

Gwen didn’t have time to argue. “Right. Okay. Well, maybe you can be like—emotional support or something.” She ignored his cheer as he slid into the pocket of the jacket and ran out of the room grabbing her shoes. “Mom!” she called as her mother sat in front of the television. “I need the car keys!”

“Gwen, what—”

“Mary Jane’s mom is at the dance and talking to her!”

Without hesitating Gwen’s mom tossed her the car keys. “Get there while I call your father.”

Gwen nodded and ran out to the car. She _may_ have broken a few speed limits on the way—but she didn’t get caught. She ran into Emma outside the school gym. “Where are they?” she demanded.

“On the way to the cafeteria,” said Emma, pointing. “Flash sent Rabbit to help.”

Rabbit wouldn't have been Gwen’s first choice. The teen was fast, almost impossible to catch—and avoided confrontation like the plague. “Right,” Gwen said as she turned and stalked in the direction. Maybe Rabbit could buy enough time for Gwen to get there. _Gwen_ had no problems with confrontation.

She could hear voices as she got closer to the cafeteria. “So, anyway, Mary Jane can’t leave as she’s supposed to be announcing her run for Prom Queen tonight,” the thin voice of Rabbit said as Gwen got closer.

“Prom Queen is not important,” said the silky, annoying voice of Mary Jane’s mother. “Marriage is.”

_The marriage she’s talking about had better be her own!_ “Why, are you getting married?” asked Gwen as she strode up.

“Oh, thank God!” muttered Rabbit before he bolted.

One eye on Mary Jane’s mother Gwen couldn't help but marvel at his speed. No wonder the track team kept trying to recruit him away from football. Gwen turned her attention to Mary Jane’s mother as she stepped between the two of them. As always, given time in her mother’s company, Mary Jane was wilting in on herself.

Mary Jane’s mother looked like an older, more sophisticated (and cold) version of Mary Jane herself. “Stay out of this Gwen,” warned the woman coldly. “You have no place here.” Mary Jane flinched at the words.

Gwen sneered. “Excuse you?” she demanded. She took a step forward. “ _I_ happen to be a student here. _I_ was invited to this dance. _You_ are not to get within fifty yards of Mary Jane, judge’s orders.” She crossed her arms and glared at the older woman. “You don’t belong here.”

The woman’s thick lips smiled tightly as she gazed at the teen in front of her. This was not the first time that the two of them had faced off. It probably wouldn't be the last. “What are you doing here Gwen? Shouldn't you playing grown-up with your little club? It _is_ Friday night, after all.”

Gwen’s smirk didn’t falter. “I’m not that easy to get rid of,” she told the woman firmly.

Cold green eyes, highlighted with gold eye shadow, narrowed. “Why are you interfering Gwen? You resent Mary Jane. Go away, and you’ll never have to look at her again.”

A siren cut through the reply Gwen originally would have made and the teen grinned. “Here comes the cavalry,” she said smugly, eyes on the beautiful older woman. “What are you going to do? Stay here and face the music, or run like a coward?”

Mary Jane’s mother met Gwen’s eyes again. “You have no idea what you’re doing,” she told the teen.

“Frequently,” agreed Gwen. “I do it anyway.” The woman opened her mouth, but they could both hear the sounds of police getting closer. Gwen glared at the woman. “Get out of my town,” she ordered.

The woman glared back, spun, and stalked off. “Bitch,” muttered Gwen. She whirled to face Mary Jane as police, lead by her father, raced into the scene. Gwen pointed and her father nodded before taking off after Mary Jane’s mother.

“Are you okay?” another officer, a female officer, asked putting a hand on Mary Jane’s shoulder.

Mary Jane was paler than normal, freckles and red lips standing out in stark contrast to her skin and her whole body trembled. Unfortunately, it was a normal reaction after seeing her mother. Gwen went to her sister and hugged the girl. “Hey,” she said gently. “Let’s go home.” She looked at the group of well dressed teens staring and shook her head. “I think the dance is over.”

“Okay,” said Mary Jane in a small voice as Gwen led her to the car.

The officer paused them with a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “This time, try to obey the speed limit.”

So, she did get caught. But she didn’t get stopped, and they understood. The entire police force in their little town understood Mary Jane’s mother. “Got it,” Gwen said as they left.

Mary Jane was oddly silent as she buckled into the car. She didn’t even look up as Peter climbed out of Gwen’s pocket to jump over to Mary Jane, cooing frantically as he tried to reassure her. Mary Jane reached out and held the chibi in her hands as Gwen buckled into the driver’s seat. “You resent me?” she asked softly.

Well, Gwen knew they’d have to have this talk eventually. She snorted. “You,” she said to her sister, “look like a fucking _model_ , wake _up_ looking like you’ve been prepped by a massive makeup team while _I_ look like the Bride of Frankenstein.” Mary Jane shrank into herself as Gwen continued. “ You _also_ ,” Gwen said viciously, “have an impeccable sense of color, style, and are insanely fast at making clothes. And all of that,” Gwen spat as Mary Jane cringed, “would be bad enough if you had a personality like Carmelita’s, but _no_! No, you’re like a fucking Disney Princess and I want to wrap you in bubble wrap and smother you with a pillow at the same damn time!”

Gwen’s hands clenched on the steering wheel and she took several slow, deep breaths to calm herself down.

“I—I’m sorry,” said Mary Jane. Gwen looked over and realized the other girl had tears running down her cheeks as Peter frantically pat her and cooed. “I—I didn’t know.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Why _would_ you know?” she asked as reasonably as possible. “My insecurities are not _your_ fault. Or problem.” Gwen turned the car on and pulled out of the space.

Mary Jane was silent until they hit the main road, gently stroking Peter’s hair as he cooed chibi babble at her. “You’re pretty awesome yourself, Gwen,” she said softly. “You’re the smartest person in school, you’re helping to manage a nightclub, and you built an entire house, with furniture, in a single day!”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Bad furniture,” she muttered. “And _you_ made all those clothes, in all those different styles, in the same day.” She pulled up to a stoplight and looked at her sister.

Mary Jane stared at her in shock for a moment and then they burst out laughing until the light turned. Mary Jane gave a low, shuddering breath before she looked at her sister again. “Thanks, Gwen,” she said softly. “For—coming to help.”

Gwen snorted. “Of course I came. I don’t trust that bitch as far as I can throw her.”

“How did you know I was in trouble?”

“Oh, I had Emma keep a weather eye on you. She was going to the dance anyway.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen gets some bad news about Sister's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten this story!

Gwen gingerly stepped over the broken glass, eyes sweeping the damage as she walked up to the bar of the vandalized club. She’d gotten the call just as she’d gotten Mary Jane home, and had dropped off her stepsister and chibi before racing off. Despite her hurry, despite the fear in Weasel’s voice, she stayed at the speed limit. The officer’s warning had not been in vain.

The windows of Sister’s had been smashed in. The tables looked as though they’d been chopped with axes. The fancy padded booths had been slashed, stuffing ripped out. The bottles of alcohol, juice, and other chemicals had been launched across the room, soaking the hardwood in their mess. And there, on the mirror behind the bar, a message was written.

_You’re not a professional._

For a moment she glared at the message with cold fury. _She_ wasn’t professional? His henchmen had been knocked out, no lasting damage there, and his response was to completely and utterly trash the club, and _she_ was unprofessional?

Oh, dear, sweet baby, this was _war_.

She turned her attention to the bar. The officers on the scene, who all knew about her deal with Weasel, let her pass as she made her way through the wreckage towards him. “What happened?” she demanded as she walked up to where Weasel was holding a bag of ice to the side of his head. “Are you all right?” she asked, concerned.

He weakly waved a hand at her as the EMS attendant glared at him. “Damn fool doesn’t want to go to the hospital,” she said grimly.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Weasel protested.

“You _need_ a hospital!”

Knowing that their local hospital, the only one in the entire county, had a reputation for killing more than helping, Gwen thought Weasel’s attitude was more than justified. “Don’t worry,” she said as she stepped close. “I’ll keep an eye on him and if his condition worsens, I’ll make sure he gets to a hospital.” Leaning a little closer to Weasel she added, under breath, “In the next county over.”

He nodded and gave the EMS attendant a quick thumbs up. “Gwen’ll look after me,” he said firmly as firmly as his wobbling body would allow. Still grumbling the worker stomped off, not being careful of where she put her feet. “She’s going to track glass into that ambulance,” he said flatly.

Gwen snorted. “That _would_ be what you’re worried about. What happened?” she asked again.

“Friday night crowd was slow, what with the game and the dance and all,” Weasel said. “Suddenly this group of guys come. One hit me with a bottle of wine. I played dead—and this happened.” He stared despondently at the broken remains of the club.

Gwen surveyed it too. “Weasel,” she asked, “how important is this club to you?”

“What?” She looked at the older man, in his ratty ponytail and narrowed eyes and asked, “How important is it to you to get things up and running _fast_?”

“What do you mean?” asked Weasel as she surveyed the scene, ideas popping in her head like fireworks.

“I mean I have a way to get this placed cleaned up, mended, and more popular than its ever been. But,” she added firmly pinning the older man with a look, “I can’t do anything about the alcohol—and it’ll cost.”

“Cost me what?” asked Weasel warily. Well, of course he was wary. He’d dealt with her before.

“Half shares of the club. The _whole_ club,” she said firmly.

Weasel was silent. Gwen decided to let him think it over while she went to bug the forensic people. “No, Gwen,” said Sam, without looking up from his notepad. “Go away.”

“Aw,” she complained lightly. “You haven’t even heard my question yet.”

“No, you cannot ‘help.’ No, I will not tell you what I’m doing. Did I hit it yet?” he asked.

“No,” said Gwen pleasantly. I wasn’t going to ask any of those questions.” Sam looked up at her with chocolate eyes and she smiled. “I was going to ask, ‘do you know when the crime scene will be released’?”

“Do I—oh, yeah. I heard something about you having shares in this money sink. Well, we’ll be done as fast as we can. Sunday morning at the latest.”

“Excellent,” said Gwen with satisfaction. “Thanks Sam.”

“Don’t mention it. Ever. Your dad would have my hide if he thought I was helping you with this.”

She grinned and then went back to stand next to Weasel. She would have leaned against the bar—but she was afraid she’d get splinters. “So?” she asked pointedly.

Weasel closed his eyes and looked pained. “Yes, Gwen. Draw up the contract and I’ll sign it. I need to get my business back.” He looked at her. “Who are you calling?”

Gwen grinned back. “No one special,” she said brightly. “Just the biggest gossip in town.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weasel is stunned with the progress.

Weasel stared at the inside of his shop. Either he hadn’t had enough coffee, or he hadn’t had enough liquor. It looked like—like there was a swarm of people fixing the club. But that was impossible; Weasel wasn’t connected to the network of the town. He’d been careful to make sure that very thing  _didn’t_ happen.

“There you are,” said the blonde as she strode with him. A paintbrush was tucked behind her ear leaving a splotch of red paint in her hair. She crossed her arms over the paint splattered cover-alls. “You’re late,” she told him, grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

Oh, yeah. Gwen. The teenage devil he’d sold half his soul to. His eyes darted around the busy room taking in details. There were children finger painting on a huge tarp. There were women in what even  _he_ recognized were Sunday clothes propping sewing machines on every still intact surface and creating new cushions and curtains for the club. A group of what appeared to be jocks were arguing with an older man as they installed a window. There was no trace of the broken glass, spilled alcohol, broken furniture, or splinters anywhere. The creepy ass message on the mirror had also been cleaned away.

“What happened?” he asked a little frantically. 

Gwen merely grinned at him and a little face peeked out of the top pocket of her cover-alls before waving happily at him. “The gossip vine happened,” she said happily. “And community spirit, of course,” she added.

“Gwen! Eddie’s here!”

“Hey, Mr. Brock!” Gwen said as she turned, putting on the mask of the dutiful high school student.

Weasel leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. Maybe—just maybe, he could count to ten and the whole mess would disappear It would be Friday night and instead of opening the club for the few stragglers who didn’t go the game and dance, he could roll back over in bed and take a night off.

“Something wrong?” demanded a harsh voice next to him. Weasel opened his eyes to see—the chief of police.

“Chief Stacey.” The man gave a curt nod. He shared a similar hair color to his daughter and there was a firm manner to his bearing, bristle mustache on his upper lip. Weasel looked over at Gwen, who was saying something to the reporter that made the strange man laugh, before turning his attention back to the chief. “Your daughter is a terror.”

The man smiled gruffly. “She gets it from her mother.”

“I wasn’t expecting—all this,” Weasel said lamely as he gestured to the club. Even the little person from Gwen’s pocket was trying to help fix things.

“Gwen made fixing your club a community project.”

The tone was so carefully neutral that Weasel could tell he didn’t like it. “Our club,” Weasel said with a sigh. “She said she could get it fixed if I gave her half shares.”

The sigh was echoed by the Chief. “She gets it from her mother. There’s a reason that woman’s mayor.”

Weasel pondered that for a moment. If he’d known that Gwen’s mother was the mayor, and her father the chief of police, when they’d met for the first time would have booted her out of the club without listening to her? Probably. It never ended well, listening to people like that.

He looked around the room of working people. In less than twenty-four hours the girl had managed to round up a workforce, materials, and—this was the important part— _wasn’t paying any of them_ . Weasel strongly suspected that “terror” was an understatement; the girl was a monster.

And how was he supposed to hide the other side of his business from authorities now?


	16. Chapter 16

Gwen yawned and blinked at her homework. It had been a tiring day—but one well spent. She opened her email to see the attached picture of the proposed front page, and grinned in satisfaction. The headline read: Local Community Saves Local Business. Under that was a picture of Sister’s, broken glass being swept by Gwen. Eddie was a great photographer; Gwen hadn’t even realized he was there for that part of cleanup.

“It’s not like _you’ve_ ever crossed the line!” snarled Gwen’s mother.

Gwen turned away from her computer and saw Peter look up, worried, from his book. “Awoo?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Gwen said with a frown as she cautiously approached the living room. First rule she learned before her parents divorce: never get between them when they argue. Still, Gwen hadn’t heard her mother raise her voice in—well, years.

In the living room stood Gwen’s mother in a stance that Gwen knew all too well from her early childhood. Feet spread and balanced, arms crossed, and (while Gwen couldn't see them from her vantage point she was familiar enough with the stance to picture it) blue eyes flashing with anger. Standing in front of her was Gwen’s father.

What was her father doing there? She hadn’t seen him since they were at Sister’s, helping to clean up. It wasn’t time for her to go to his house. Why was he there?

“I’m not saying I haven’t,” Gwen’s father said firmly. “We both know I have. I’m saying you have no idea how dangerous that business is.”

Ah. _Now_ it made sense. Clearly her father had gotten an idea of the _other_ side of Sister’s, the one that Gwen wasn’t supposed to know about. She wondered if telling her father she knew _exactly_ how dangerous the situation was would make things better or worse. Probably worse, because then he’d demand to know why she was being so stupid.

“Children need to spread their wings and if that means they fall a few times, they fall a few times,” snarled Gwen’s mother, keeping her voice down now.

“Even if they’re falling from the sky?” demanded her father.

“Gwen knows how to catch herself.”

Before Gwen could take herself back to her room the front door opened and both Mary Jane and Carmelita walked into the house. “Hello Mr. Stacey,” Mary Jane said politely.

Her father smiled at her. Everyone did. “Hello Mary Jane,” he said gently.

Mary Jane, ever sensitive to moods and mood swings, looked between the two adults nervously. “If we’re interrupting,” she began.

Gwen’s father sighed and gently rubbed the top of her head. “You’re not,” he said firmly. “I’m done banging my head against the brick wall today. I’m going home before I get a concussion.” The man turned and left and Gwen stepped into the living room as Carmelita saw her—and graced the girl with a bitter, angry smile that twisted her lovely face into a mask of rage.

“Hello, Gwen. Glad to see you’re looking less like a corpse.”

Gwen chuckled with fake warmth at the other teen. “Oh, Carmen,” she said condescendingly, “I see you’ve broken away from the color red. Have you learned there are other colors in the rainbow?”

There was a flicker of something, something dark in the beauty’s eyes, but she brushed it to the side. “I have a present for you,” she said smugly, darkly. She reached into her purse and hauled out—a chibi.

This wasn’t a chibi like Peter was a chibi—although they were structured basically the same. This one was scarred all over and raw sores that had broken and were bleeding. Carmelita dropped the chibi in Gwen’s general area and Gwen scrambled to catch the poor little thing. “Hey, now,” she said glaring at the dark beauty of the school.

“I thought you might like him, since you like garbage,” Carmelita sneered. She turned that sneer to the pitifully huddling chibi in Gwen’s hand. “He’s defective as a chibi.” The girl turned and walked out of the house.

“Carmelita, wait!” called Mary Jane hurrying after the other girl.

“Bitch,” Gwen responded darkly.

“Gwen!”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing Ian hasn’t heard before Mom,” she said as she used her hands to gently cradle the shivering chibi. “Poor thing,” she said softly looking at him.

Gwen’s mother sighed before looking at her daughter. “About Sister’s,” she said, “you’ll tell me if there’s an adult problem?”

Gwen and her mother had an understanding. Gwen would handle her peers and people her age, and her mother would handle adults. “It’s not as bad as Dad thinks,” Gwen said.

“I know.” Her mother eyed her shrewdly. “Just as I know you probably know more about that business than your father has even guessed.”

“Something like that.” Never knew when knowledge would be useful, after all.

“What happened to him?” Gwen turned to see that Ian had snuck up on her again, and was staring at chibi in her hand.

Gwen made it a policy to never lie to her little brother. “I’m not sure,” she said with honesty, “but I’m going to have to treat him. Would you get the first aid kit?”

“Sure!” Ian raced off to grab their (rather huge) first aid kit.

“Can that even be used on a chibi?” asked Gwen’s mother.

“We’ll find out.” Gwen spoke to the chibi as they went to her room. “Now, I already have a chibi living with me, and his name’s Peter. Be nice to Peter; if we have to separate the two of you _he’s_ not the one leaving. And stay away from the gerbils. They’re vicious and evil.”

“They are _not_ evil,” protested Gwen’s mother.

“Sure Mom,” agreed Gwen calmly from the threshold of her room. “I’ll believe that as soon as you can hold them in your hand and pet them.” As she walked in Peter leaped up from his seat and looked at the chibi in Gwen’s hands.

“Woo?” he asked.

“Ade,” gasped the chibi in her hands.

“All right,” Gwen soothed as best as she could as her little brother came in lugging the small suitcase they used as a first aid kit. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

Ian set the case on the floor and flipped the lid open. “What do you need?” he asked.

That was a good question. What _did_ she need? The skin of the chibi in her hands (and he was completely hairless) was both scarred and irritated—especially around the sores. In fact, now that she was looking, she could see that there was fine powder all over him. “First,” she said firmly, “I need a warm washcloth. One of the baby ones, if you don’t mind.” Ian sped off as Peter got closer to her. Gwen sat down at the desk and rested her hands on the wood, still gently cupping the injured chibi.

“Awe?” asked Peter as he got closer. He looked over her hands to gaze at the new chibi.

“Wade,” whispered the one in her palms. He looked up at Peter.

Who looked up at Gwen. “Awoo?” Peter asked pointing at Wade.

“I’m going to try to make him better,” Gwen admitted as Ian came back in with the baby washcloth—and a bowl of warm, clear water. “Good thinking,” she praised her little brother.

“What are you going to?” Ian asked as he got closer to her.

“First,” said Gwen absently as she wet the cloth and wrung out the excess water, “I’m going to clean that powder off. I don’t know what it is, but it seems to be irritating his wounds.” She carefully, gently, wiped the powder off. There wasn’t as much of it as she’d been afraid of, so it was an easily done job. She set the cloth back in the water—and stared as the water turned light purple.

“Is it supposed to do that?” asked Ian.

“Woo?” asked Peter as he pointed.

“No,” said Gwen firmly as she looked at it. “Don’t touch it, Peter,” she warned. “Poor little guy,” she said softly to the chibi in her hand. “That must have hurt. Hey Ian, please dig out the numbing antiseptic cream.”

He rifled through the objects in the kit. “We only have the gel. Will that work?”

Gwen sighed. “It will have to,” she said. He handed her the tiny tube and she squirted some of it on her finger before rubbing it on the wounded chibi. The chibi flinched at first, and then leaned into the touch.

“Waaade,” he sighed.

Gwen chuckled. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she told him.

“Should we give him a band aid?” asked Ian as he looked at the glistening chibi.

“No,” Gwen said firmly. “There’s no way to apply one to where the sticky part isn’t right over a sore, and I don’t want to risk hurting him any more.” She gently deposited the chibi on the desk, allowing Peter to get in close and get a good look. “Peter, this is—Wade,” Gwen said pulling the name from the single word she’d ever heard the chibi say. “Be nice to him. His last human was defective.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A typical Monday morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for sass, language, and minor slut shaming (Gwen was just upset).

Gwen stared absently at her unrolling screensaver as she thought. She couldn't take both Peter and Wade to school with her; she wasn’t sure that Wade, as sensitive as he was at the moment, could handle the chaos that was school. And, with another chibi in the house, she lost the excuse of needing the social environment of school for the chibi.

She looked over at the house. Wade had cocooned himself in the small blankets of the house and settled himself on one of the pieces of furniture in the room with the smartphone. He hadn’t moved much; she was reasonably sure that he was mentally, as well as physically, scarred by what had happened to him.

How could anyone do something so horrible to a chibi? They were small, almost helpless creatures that _depend_ on their humans. They were also endearing.

She got on the computer and searched until she found the forum for people raising rescued chibis that she’d been on before, and made an account. She quickly explained the circumstances surrounding Wade, and asked for advice on the best way to handle him before clicking off and going over to the house. She watched as Peter brought Wade one of the snacks she kept in there in case he got hungry between mealtimes.

“Okay,” she said getting the attention of both chibis. Peter looked up at her with a worried expression, Wade looked up warily as he huddled deeper in the blankets he’d pulled over his head. “I have to go to school today, and I don’t think that Wade is up to going.” Especially since his last owner, Carmelita, was at the school, and would be in Gwen’s face, because she always insisted on dropping by to insult Gwen. “So, I’m leaving the two of you at home today. Peter, you’re in charge.”

“Awee!” said Peter as he gave a military perfect salute.

Well, he _had_ been watching stuff on the smartphone. He probably picked it up there. “Let me show you,” she said as she reached into the house, ignoring the way that Wade flinched away from her, “how to call me. _Only_ if there’s an emergency,” she added quickly as she walked the rapt chibi through the process of using the WiFi to call her phone. “Got it?” she asked Peter.

He saluted her again. “Awoo!” he said grimly.

“Good.” She grabbed her backpack and headed out just as Mary Jane was coming back in from walking Ian to the bus stop. “You about ready?” she asked her stepsister.

Mary Jane nodded. “By the way, Ian wants to know if it would be all right if he invited Calvin over this weekend,” she said as she grabbed her own backpack, already by the door.

“Isn’t Calvin the one responsible for him getting rabies shots?” asked James.

“Yup,” Gwen affirmed.

James went silent and then looked at Gwen. “What do you think?”

“I think Calvin is an uncontrollable little terror that always manages to find trouble,” Gwen said as she downed the last of her coffee.

“As long as he doesn’t bring his pet—Cable?—everything should be fine,” Mary Jane said.

Gwen held back a snort. Clearly Mary Jane hadn’t met the little monster yet. Gwen had. And while she had a deep, abiding respect for someone capable of building a stink bomb out of nothing more than the supplies in half a dozen packed lunches—that didn’t mean she wanted to spend time with the little monster. Still, it wasn’t her decision to make. “All right,” said Gwen as she and Mary Jane headed to the car. “Time for another fun day of learning.”

“You don’t sound thrilled,” Mary Jane offered tentatively. The two of them had been trying to find a new equilibrium since Gwen’s confession the night of Homecoming.

“I’m more worried about how the chibis are going to fare at home alone,” Gwen said. And she was going to have to confront Carmelita about the powder she’d found all over the chibi. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but there was only one drug she knew of that would turn water pale purple.

“Do—do you mind if I make some clothes for the new one?” asked Mary Jane tentatively.

Gwen blinked as she turned into the main lane for traffic while fishing out the tag to hang on the rear view mirror so the car wouldn't get towed. “Why would I mind?” she asked, confused. She tried to remember if Mary Jane had asked when she’d brought Peter home.

“I don’t—don’t want to overstep,” Mary Jane said carefully.

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said wearily. “Household pets are everyone’s pets, no matter what room they’re in.”

“Unless they’re evil,” chimed in Mary Jane.

“Like the gerbils,” added Gwen. The two glanced at each other and laughed as Gwen continued through the thick morning traffic.

There was a moment of silence in the car (except for the radio) before Mary Jane said, “You know, she really isn’t as bad as you think she is.”

“Who?” asked Gwen suspiciously.

“Carmelita.”

“You _were_ there, right? When she dumped the scarred, abused, and scared chibi in front of me?”

“She had a reason for that,” protested Mary Jane.

Gwen almost asked if Carmelita had a reason for the powder that had been all over Wade—but held her tongue. She wasn’t sure if the powder was a teen problem or an adult problem. “Mary Jane,” said Wen slowly, “each and every single time I see that bitch, she starts insulting me.”

“Well, _maybe_ if you didn’t insist on calling her after a the main character of a cartoon, she wouldn't!”

“She _started_ it!”

“And _that’s_ so _mature_!” snarled back Mary Jane

The remnants of the shout echoed in the car making Gwen’s ears ring. Gwen finished the drive in silence, parked the car, and the two of them got out. “Mary Jane!” she called as her stepsister began to walk away. When the redhead turned to look at her she shrugged. “I’ll try,” she said.

Mary Jane smiled. “That’s all I ask,” she said sweetly.

Between first and second period, while Gwen was swapping out books for her next class, Carmelita waltzed up to her. “Good morning Gwen,” she said sweetly. “How is the defective little thing?”

Carmelita was making it hard to try to be nicer. Gwen took a deep breath, and decided to answer the surface question—ignoring, of course, the fact that the other girl insisted on referring to Wade as “defective.” “Well,” Gwen said slowly, as pleasantly as she could, “I left him and Peter to settle in at home. Last time I saw him, he was bundled up under blankets on the couch.” She looked around for Carmelita’s other half, and frowned. “Where’s your boyfriend?” she asked curiously.

For one moment Carmelita looked—frightened and Gwen felt an urge to wrap her arms around the other girl and find out what was so wrong and if she could get rid of it. Then Carmelita’s normal face came back, and she sneered. “Feeling jealous, Gwen?” she taunted. “What, the old man you’re dating can’t get it up any more?”

Gwen was puzzled instead of insulted. Old man? “What old man?” she asked curiously.

Carmelita rolled her eyes and heaved a huge sigh like _Gwen_ was being the trying one. “The owner of the club.”

“Weasel?” asked Gwen, disgusted at the mere thought of two of them in a relationship. Even if there wasn’t such a huge age gap between them Weasel was—well, Weasel was disgusting, especially looking at him romantically. “Ew,” said Gwen, vocalizing the thoughts.

“Well, why else would he let a little high school nobody help with his club?” asked Carmelita.

Fuck this being nice shit. Gwen slammed her locker closed, turned, and smiled back at the other girl. “Unlike some people,” Gwen said sweetly, “I don’t _have_ to fuck a guy to get what I want. I can do that on my own.” She sailed past the dumbfounded cheerleader and headed towards her class, still steaming, when her phone rang. There was no rule about using phones in the halls, so she answered it. “Hello?”

A very, very quiet, almost unheard voice said, “Awoo?”

Peter.

Before Gwen realized what she was doing she was running through the crowded halls, dodging other students, heading to the car.

“Hey!”

She ignored the call as she hopped into the vehicle, buckled in (safety first), and then peeled out of the school parking lot before heading home. Halfway there she picked up flashing lights in the rear view mirror, but ignored them as she raced home. She screeched into the driveway and her heart stopped, for one panicked moment, when she saw the front door had been broken in.

She leaped out of the car and began to run to the door as a hand grabbed the back of her jacket and pulled her back. “Stay here,” ordered the officer firmly. The woman had her gun out and several more officers were behind her as they advanced—slowly, carefully, and surely, on the house.

Gwen waited, heart racing, as they entered the house. There was shouting, screaming—and then one of the uniformed officers went to the door to beckon Gwen in. She didn’t need another invitation. She raced in, ran down the hall and into her room (and what was the guy doing in her room, anyway?), and looked, desperately, around for the chibis. The phone was still on the wall of the house, and still connected—but where were Wade and Peter?

“Woo,” called a soft voice. Gwen looked up to her invisible shelves. Peter and Wade were on top of one of them, Wade still bundled in fabric.

“There you are!” said Gwen, relieved. She stepped up to them and held out her hand. To her (pleasant) surprise, Wade shuffled onto her palm as well, keeping himself wrapped. She hugged the two of them to her chest, careful to be gentle. “You’re all right,” she said with a relieved sigh. She hadn’t actually believed they would be until she saw them with her own eyes. “You’re all right,” she repeated gently.

The man, seeing her turn with the chibis in her arms, snarled and tried to lunge at her from his prone position. The officer with one knee on his back quickly pinned him in place. “He’s not yours, Girly,” snarled the man. “If you’re good and give him up, things will be much easier for you.”

Gwen eyed the man. He was wearing a tattered trench coat over an expensive (if now mussed) black, three piece suit. “Who _are_ you?” she demanded as she held them tightly.

The man laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he demanded.

“Can we use that in court?” asked a voice from the door. Gwen turned to see her father.

The officer grunted. “Can’t see why not,” he said. “I’ve already read him his rights.

“Good.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the Osborns.

Harry frowned as Norman fixed his tie. There was a board meeting this morning and normally Harry would be going as well, but—but his father had other orders this morning. “Elfin Cove?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Norman as he studied his reflection in the mirror. Before each and every single meeting he made sure that he was immaculate. “You’ll be giving a talk about your ‘product’ at the school there.”

Harry sighed as he picked up the paper again. “That product,” he reiterated again, “is insanely popular. Despite its price,” and he shot a glare at the man responsible for the insanely high price, “the manual is one of the best selling books.”

Norman sneered at his reflection. “It’s only in the top one hundred,” he said.

“No, it’s _in_ the top one hundred with a price point higher than the average weekly paycheck,” Harry explained. Again. He wondered how much his father actually heard.

He was lucky that Norman hadn’t decreed that all the experiments be trashed instead of being allowed to thrive into a brand new type of pet. He still wasn’t sure where he’d gotten the silver tongue he’d used to get Norman to allow him to put them on the market—and he wasn’t sure where it went. It would be nice to get his father to take his tiny (but very, _very_ lucrative) part of the company a little more seriously. Not a lot seriously—the last thing he wanted was his father to take over with his mass production mentality.

Harry picked up his tablet and looked up the city his father was sending him to—and blinked. It wasn’t a city, it was barely a town! “Dad, this place is in the middle of _nowhere_ ,” he protested.

“Complain to your brother,” Norman said. He finally turned away from the mirror and faced his son, arms crossed over his chest. “Theo is bizarrely interested in that town, and I don’t want a repeat of the Chicago incident.”

Harry winced. He wasn’t sure which was worse; his father taking so little note of Harry’s success to sent him to some little town in the middle of nowhere, or his father expecting him to be Theo’s caretaker. “Theo doesn’t listen to me,” he protested.

“Well, it’s high time he starts. Now, I have to run if I’m going to make it on time.” With a single, curt not, Norman turned to the door. By leaving now he’d be fifteen minutes late for his meeting—which was on purpose. He _never_ showed up to those things on time; he wanted his board members to sweat.

Harry sighed and went to his room to see his brother on his bed, reading a magazine. “Elfin Cove?” he asked.

“Some blonde little tart is giving my pet project lip,” Theo explained. And said no more.

Harry snorted. “All right then,” he muttered as he grabbed his coat and headed to the lab. One of the benefits to having an actual, dedicated space to his project in his father’s company was that he could live and work in the same building. He went down to talk to his pet scientist, Dr. Wu. (No less than seven PhD’s, and was still only twenty-two. Harry was still in awe.)

“How are we doing?” Harry asked as he walked around the lab.

Dr. Wu, thoroughly intimidated by Harry, frowned. “Please don’t touch anything,” he said. “The last time you moved a beaker you set my experiments back by half a day.”

Unlike Norman, Harry had very little talent in scientific fields. “Right. I was actually talking about the chibis.”

Dr. Wu pointed to what Harry (privately) called the Love Lab. “I’ve got couples sixteen, nineteen, twelve, and twenty in there. I’m hopeful.”

“I keep telling you to use their names,” Harry said with a wince. “They love having names instead of numbers.”

“They’re too stupid to know the difference.”

Dr. Wu, for all his brilliance, had some severe blind spots. Shaking his head, Harry went into the Love Lab. It was a good thing for his little ones that he was there; he wasn’t sure what would happen to them if the only human interaction they got was Dr. Wu and the cleaning staff. “Good morning,” he greeted the little ones softly. He didn’t want to be too loud, just in case they were—busy. He passed by the numbered tanks. Tanks one and two, good breeding, tank three, same, tank four—Harry stopped.

The two little chibis in tank four were doing each other’s hair. All of their little clothes were still on, and still straight. “Hey you two,” Harry said softly, so as not to disturb the inhabitants of the other three tanks.

The two saw him and waved before running to the wall closest to him and babbling happily in their odd little language. Happy to see him. Happy to interact with him. Not absorbed in each other at all. “You guys ready to go back to the big tank?” he asked warmly. In response the two began holding their arms up, waiting to be picked up, and jumping, each eager to be the first one held. He reached in with both hands and they each cuddled into one allowing him to easily lift them out.

Dr. Wu looked up from his work and frowned when he saw Harry leaving the love lab with the two chibis. When he opened his mouth, Harry interjected. “Vixen and Faby are only going to be friends,” he told the doctor.

“Their genes make them a perfect match,” argued Dr. Wu as Harry took the two to the large tank with all the lab chibis in it.

“Genes aren’t everything,” Harry said absently as he put the two chibis in and picked out another likely couple. “Come on Chris and Dawn,” he said gently. “Your turn.”

“They’re not compatible,” Dr. Wu said with a frown as he saw the two that Harry was holding.

“They’re not related,” Harry protested as he went into the Love Lab to put the two in tank four. In fact, none of the chibis in the big tank were related. They’d been chosen specifically for the Love Lab.

There was nothing wrong with churning out chibis in a lab. There really wasn’t. But the true mark of a species, not a product, was the ability to produce viable offspring. If they could make it work—it would revolutionary. They would have made an entire, viable species, from _scratch_. Well, Dr. Wu would have. Harry would just have to be content to remain the unmentioned footnote who kept the good doctor from accidentally scarring the precious little chibis.

After a little more time spent puttering around the lab, doing his best to avoid anything that Dr. Wu might be doing, Harry left. The good doctor was clearly relieved. Harry wasn’t sure why; he wasn’t as overbearing as Norman and he didn’t try to tell the doctor that he could do the same job _better_.

He went back up to the penthouse, hung up his coat by the door, and went to his room before booting up his computer. His _old_ computer; a castoff of Norman’s that Harry had, by some miracle, managed to get up and running. It even connected to the internet and was (despite its ancient hardware) reasonably fast.

“Looking at the posts on your whining site again?” asked Theo.

Harry didn’t dignify him with a reply. His brother was still lying across the bed, reading the same magazine as the page came up. He frowned as he read the newest submission, posted just the morning before.

Someone had gotten custody of a severely abused chibi, and wanted to know the best way to go about comforting it. He quickly read the intro of the profile and learned that the user, LittleLove09, had another chibi that had been given away for free. Harry’s heart broke a little for the poor things.

No matter how closely he tried to regulate the sales of chibis, they still got bad owners. Owners who abused them. Abandoned them. Worked to destroy something so precious and gentle.

But at least it looked like LittleLove09 was trying to be a good parent to her chibis. She even got on the site (that he’d designed for people who couldn't afford to spend six hundred dollars on a _book—_ thank you Norman) and admitted her own shortcomings to ask for help. That was a good sign.

Harry quickly typed up and posted several foods that chibis liked as treats, as well as warnings about what foods to stay away from, or keep in moderate amounts. All chibis loved chocolate—but their systems treated it like human systems did alcohol and neither he nor Dr. Wu really knew why. (Harry also had to admit that they didn’t really care why; they were more concerned with the adults.) They adored crunchy vegetables and soft meat, and he included some foods they loved that weren’t meat (just in case LittleLove09 was vegan). He read through the article quickly, checking for mistakes and things he’d forgotten to put in, and then posted it.

Theo snorted from the bed. “Loser,” he said fondly.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade had an adventure. Gwen gets the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, trigger warning for animal abuse here, and semi-graphic descriptions of carnage. (It's been a long week.) I'll put stars around the paragraph, and you can skip it if you're squeamish. Gold stars all around! :)

Gwen was met at the door by her mother. “Wade got into the gerbil tank.”

Gwen’s heart nearly stopped. She’d never told Wade to avoid the gerbils. “Is he all right?” she demanded. Her mind supplied images of the poor, scarred chibi in pieces, blood all over the tank.

Gwen’s mother’s mouth tightened in a frown. “ _He_ is fine,” she growled firmly. “In fact,” she continued, ignoring the rush of relief that Gwen felt, “He killed all the gerbils.”

Wade was six and a half inches tall, which meant he towered over any of the gerbils—but there had been a _lot_ of them in that tank. “How?” she asked, incredulous.

“Come and see.” Her mother stepped out of the doorway and gestured to the bloody tank.

The first thing that Gwen noticed was the silence. She hadn’t realized just how loud that ever-present scratching had gotten. Or how much it had grated on her nerves. There was a part of her that just relaxed by not having to hear it again.

***

The second thing she noticed was the carnage in the tank. There were mutilated gerbils, gerbils with pencils (looked like yellow Number 2s) sticking out of them, blood splashed against the clear walls. From what she could see, one of them had even been beheaded—which didn’t make any sense. How could the little chibi have beheaded a gerbil?

***

“Are you sure he’s alright?” asked Gwen as she frowned at the carnage.

“ _He_ is fine.” She sighed. “Gwen, I understand you have this thing about closing your door—”

“It’s called, ‘my door doesn’t fit the frame’,” Gwen supplied.

Her mother ignored her. “But this is unacceptable. I do not want that genocidal chibi to have unrestricted access to the rest of the house. The door stays shut from now on, unless you’re actually passing through it.”

Gwen mentally snorted at the description of Wade as a “genocidal chibi” when she was almost certain that the leader gerbil had been plotting the deaths of the humans who dared to put her and her children in a clear plastic cage. She opened her mouth to say that Wade wasn’t dangerous—and stopped before looking into the tub again. Clearly Wade _was_ dangerous—but she found it hard to feel sorry for the gerbils. Not when she’d had so many nightmares about them escaping.

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll go talk to him,” she added as she went to her room. Both chibis were in their house and it looked like Peter was scolding Wade, who was sitting on the floor in front of Peter.

“Woo ah awoo,” said Peter grimly.

“Waaade,” whined Wade.

“All right,” said Gwen, immediately getting both chibis attention. “Let me have a look at you Wade,” she said. The chibi obediently got up and climbed into her hand with an air of resignation. She looked him over and then sighed in relief. “Good—you’re not injured.” She gently put the chibi back in the house. He looked stunned.

She turned her attention to Peter. “Be nice. You know, just as I do, that those gerbils were a _menace_.”

“Wade!” said the chibi pointing at Gwen.

Peter scowled. On his little face the expression was adorable. “Don’t be like that,” she gently admonished him. “You met the gerbils.” Peter closed his eyes and shuddered. “Exactly.”

Gwen shifted her attention. “Now, I’m going to take a moment to pretend that you need an explanation of who _not_ to kill, so lets go through the list. Do _not_ kill any of the humans. We’re the ones keeping you warm, fed, and safe. Do _not_ kill the guinea pigs or dogs. They are lovable, social animals that we all adore. Like the two of you.” Suddenly remembering something she added, “My little brother may be bringing home a friend who is terror on two legs. Do not try to kill him either. He can’t get through the door when it’s shut, so I’ll keep it shut from now on.” There. Now they knew that she keeping the door shut to protect them.

She looked down and bit her lip to keep from smiling as she thought, again, of the carnage in the tank. “How?” she asked finally. “How did you do it?”

The door to her room jiggled, jumped, and finally creaked open as her stepsister looked in. “Are you all right?”

Gwen grinned at Mary Jane, feeling light and free after almost two whole years of back seat terror. “I’m great,” she said.

The other girl looked confused. “What?” she asked.

Gwen, smiling, put a finger to her lips. “You hear that?” she asked quietly. Mary Jane looked at her confused. “The scratching is _gone_. We don’t have to worry about those evil little monsters getting free and trying to kill us in our sleep.”

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. “I think _you’re_ the only one who was worried about that.”

“Ay-yo!” cried Peter waving.

“See? Not just me. How’s your private project going?” asked Gwen.

Mary Jane smiled. There was nothing she loved more than making clothes of every type. “Almost done,” she said with satisfaction. Then her brow furrowed as she frowned. “But Wade won’t be able to give everyone a fashion show,” she added.

“Wade?” asked the chibi in question looking between the two human girls.

“So he can give just _us_ a fashion show,” said Gwen smoothly.

Mary Jane smiled again as the furrows cleared out. “True.” She hesitated. “You don’t—mind me in your room?”

Gwen looked at the redhead with surprise. “You’ve never asked before,” she said.

“You’ve never closed your door before. Unless you were changing,” Mary Jane added quickly.

That was—true. Gwen smiled. “Just knock and wait for me answer before coming in,” she advised. Mary Jane nodded, left the room, and Gwen heard the muffled cursing as the other girl tried to get the door to latch. It was a tricky business—which was why she didn’t used to do it.

“Wade!” said the scarred little chibi as he pointed towards the door. “Wade, wade wade!” he added as he jumped up and down.

Gwen couldn't tell if he was excited or upset. “Mary Jane is making you a closet. Probably one like Peter’s,” she added as she booted up her computer to check that forum. “Oh, look, I got a reply from GobbyGreen2,” she said absently as she read it. She frowned at the information. So—chocolate to chibis was like alcohol to humans? Good thing she hadn’t given them any chocolate then—she didn’t really approve of alcohol too much. As for the other stuff though…

She got up, fought with the doorknob, and then went to the kitchen. “Gwen, what are you doing?” asked her mother as she loaded a tray.

“Chibi treats,” Gwen said. She glanced up to see that her mother’s face was hardening. “I need to know if they like them,” she added firmly. Her mother thought about that and then nodded permission.

“There better not be a single crumb left in your room!” her mother shouted as Gwen fought the door again.

Ian was passing by. “Here, hold this,” she ordered as she handed him the plate before forcing the door open.

Ian obeyed—but he usually did if it was _Gwen_ doing the telling. “Why’s your door so hard to open and close?” he asked as he followed her into her room before she shut the door. “None of the others have a problem.”

“The frame’s warped,” Gwen said absently. “Take the plate to the house. Don’t tell Mom, but I think Wade deserves a treat.”

“Me too. I didn’t like the gerbils either. They hated my guinea pigs.”

“Wade?” asked the scarred chibi as he peered up at Ian.

“Wade, this is Ian, my little brother. Little Brother, this Wade, Badass Chibi who kills evil gerbils.” Wade saluted as Peter sighed and glared at Gwen. “Don’t look at me like that,” she told the chibi. “You have no idea how much trouble I’ve had sleeping with those monsters in the living room.”

“Uwoo,” sighed Peter as he shook his head. She couldn't help but notice that he was still interested in the plate.

Gwen frowned as Wade took a piece of fruit from the plate and offered it to Peter. She watched the two of them. She’d seen them interact before, but now she was actually _watching_. Watching as he offered the fruit. Watching as Peter accepted the fruit. Watched as Peter—holy shit her chibis were gay!

“Time for homework,” Gwen said firmly as she turned Ian away from the house.

“What are they doing?” asked Ian, curious like any other small child.

“Prelude to naked wrestling,” said Gwen as a flush heated up her cheeks. She opened the door in record time, pushed Ian out and wrestled it back into place. Then she pulled the top sheet off her bed to give the exceptionally noisy chibis privacy.

“Okay!” she said parking herself in front of her computer. “Time for more research.” She banished the screensaver—and then paused before rooting through the items on her desk until she found the headphones. Turning music up to a level she didn’t normally listen to it, she quickly thanked GobbyGreen2 for his advice, mentioned that the chibi seemed to be doing better, and asked about the possible rage issue. After all, there had to be a reason why Wade had made his way into the living room to kill the gerbils in the first place.

Then, after that, she searched the forums on the site for anything related to chibi mating habits. Finding absolutely nothing, she started a new thread (that would possibly become a new forum in and of itself on the site) asking about chibi mating habits. Such as—could they share the same home, or did she need to make a second one? Were chibi genders the same as humans, or was she going to be expecting baby chibis soon? And if there were any suggestions, she added as she turned the volume of her music up again, about how to either soundproof those activities or get them to do them quieter, she would be eternally grateful. Also—how frequently did chibis mate? Was this something that she was going to have to deal with off and on, or was this something she needed to get a pair of noise canceling headphones for?

Gwen quickly scanned the page for any grammatical errors before posting. She sighed and started pull her headphones off so she could go grab her homework. She quickly pushed them back into place. Her homework could wait. She hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Gwen is not upset that the chibis are gay. She's surprised--mainly because she's nothing on the internet about chibis breeding. Which, if you think about it, makes sense since they haven't yet.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble after school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning here. Heavily implied non-con, nothing explicit. Summary at the bottom if you want to skip. 
> 
> Also--for those whose schools don't have one (in our district this is new) a lockdown alarm looks like a fire alarm, only black and they're installed (at least around here) right next to each other. Fire alarms are for evacuation and lockdowns are for hiding. I don't know that they sound different; I just think it makes sense that they do.

Gwen stared at the drawing in mute horror. “What is that?” she asked pointing to the colorful monstrosity on the paper.

Emma blew a bubblegum bubble as she twirled a colored pencil. “New mascot design,” she said.

Gwen stared back down at the hideous thing. “What’s wrong with the old one?” she asked.

A snort drew their attention across the room. “No one,” said young teen leaning against the wall (on top of his desk, Gwen noticed with irritation—she’d been part of the committee to buy more for the school and knew exactly how much those things cost), “takes Elves seriously. People keep calling me Legolas!”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Maybe,” she said with a sly smile, “that has more to do with the fact that you happen to be the regional archery champion.” Then she tilted her head and sweetened her voice. “Good thing it distracts people from wondering where your incredible aiming skills come from, isn’t it Lester?”

Lester grimaced. “I don’t know why everybody’s scared of Mary Jane’s Mom. _You’re_ far more terrifying.”

“Perspective,” Gwen said dismissively. “After all, Mary Jane’s mother knows people all over the world.” She bat her eyes at him. “I’m just a small town girl.”

“You’re a monster is what you are,” said Lester.

“Seriously though,” Emma said as her latest bubble popped. “You could just let Clint take the title.”

“Let that pretty rich boy get it,” sneered Lester. “Never.”

The two girls exchanged a glance and rolled their eyes as their club adviser came into the room. “So, what do you think of the new mascot?” he asked.

“Awful,” Gwen said honestly. She looked at the mess on the paper again. “What is it even supposed to be?”

“Well, you know how we’re the Elves because we live in Elfin Grove,” their adviser began. All three students rolled their eyes at that announcement. It had been a running gag in the school since it _was_ a school. “But—mythologically speaking, there are other things that live in an Elfin Grove than Elves.”

“So,” Gwen prompted as he began searching through his desk for something, “what is this supposed to be?”

“A troll!”

“A troll.”

Lester threw his head back and laughed as Gwen gently thudded her head against the desk and Emma stared at their adviser in disbelief. Who didn’t notice. He stood up and frowned as he surveyed the wood-topped desk. “I must have left that book in the Teacher’s lounge,” he muttered. “Gwen—”

“On it,” said Gwen as she slipped out of her desk. She stopped for a moment to rest a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Try to explain why trolls are a bad idea,” she ordered. Her friend nodded and Gwen left.

The hallways were deserted, because the only people left on campus were those in either clubs or sports. Mary Jane was off with the football team doing—whatever managers of the football team did. Coordinate push-ups, make the players run at each other wearing insane amounts of padding—she wasn’t exactly sure what the job entailed, but the Elfin Grove Elves were undefeated this season.

Which was why she was surprised, but not wary at seeing Carmelita and her boyfriend in the halls. Both the football players and the cheerleaders were practicing at the school, and Gwen had a decent relationship with the football team, courtesy of her stepsister. She walked in their general direction and gave the two of them very little thought.

Until the boyfriend’s fist connected with the lockers by Carmelita’s head and the metal _dented_. Gwen turned to stare, shocked at the almost feral rage she saw on the teen’s face as he whispered something to Carmelita—who stammered before whimpering as the guy grabbed her arm and hauled her closer to him.

Gwen couldn't stand aside and do nothing. She quickly scanned the hall and spied the emergency fire extinguisher in its glass case—next both the fire and lockdown alarms. She quickly pulled the extinguisher out and slammed down the black handle sounding the lockdown alarm. As the boy looked up in surprise at the air-raid siren noise Gwen slammed the extinguisher into his side with all her strength and then grabbed a frozen Carmelita. “Come on!” she shouted as she turned to run.

Carmelita—vicious verbal bully—followed, quickly running. It didn’t take long for Gwen to realize the other girl was limping, and quickly herded the two of them into a supply closet as the enraged male teen pounded past them. Gwen sank to the floor in relief, glanced up at Carmelita, and got a front row view to the bruise in the shape of of a handprint on her thigh—on the leg she’d been favoring. “What happened?” Gwen asked, quietly, not wanting to get anyone’s attention.

Carmelita wrapped her arms around herself as she slowly sat down, careful not to bend her injured leg too much. “It—it’s not his fault,” she said, nearly sobbing.

Gwen thought over what she knew about Carmelita’s boyfriend. Kind, gentle, a bit goofy. Well liked by his teammates on the football team. Mary Jane had nothing bad to say about him—but she had nothing bad to say about anyone.

She sighed. “How long has he been taking Triple S?” she asked wearily.

“How?” Carmelita looked at Gwen defensively, as though she was afraid of Gwen with her souped up crazy boyfriend stalking the halls.

“The powder Wade was covered in when you dropped him off,” Gwen explained, throttling down the flash of anger at the way that Carmelita had done that. “There are only two white powders that turn pale purple with mixed with water—and it didn’t have the fruity smell of Kool-Aide.”

“O—oh.” Carmelita looked down and bit her bottom lip. “I wasn’t—they don’t know I stole him.”

Wait, wait— _what_?

Gwen wrenched her head around to stare at Carmelita as the other girl spoke. “But—but what they were doing was wrong. I couldn't save the others, but I saved him.”

Gwen opened her mouth to speak—as the alarm was suddenly silenced moments before there was a knock on the door. Both girls stilled until the officer on the other side called, “It’s safe now. We’ve got him in custody.”

“Give us a moment to unblock the door!” Gwen called back as she stood up. She helped Carmelita stand on her shaky legs. “You and I,” she said grimly, “are going to have a _long_ talk when this is over.” Before Carmelita could reply she opened the door and helped her out. “She needs an ambulance,” she told the officers.

“Paramedics are already on their way,” the officer said looking at Carmelita grimly. “We’ve got people watching the security cameras,” she added. Carmelita let out a muffled sob.

“Hey, can we get a chair?” Gwen asked. “She needs to sit.” The officer nodded, spoke into the radio on her vest, then quickly ducked into a classroom to get a chair. Luckily for Carmelita, the uniformed woman ducked into one of the computer rooms and brought out a rolling chair (much more comfortable than the wooden ones. Gwen got Carmelita situated before going off with another officer to answer questions about the event.

What had Carmelita meant by, “they don’t know I stole him?” Was that strange guy who’d broken into Gwen’s house last week one of the people Carmelita thought didn’t know? Because if they’d tracked the chibi down to Gwen’s house, they _must_ know.

Unless—unless the person in her house had been after _Peter_. The man hadn’t used a name, and both chibis were male. He could have been talking about either one.

What was so special about _these_ chibis? Yes, the little things were rare, but they were hardly the only chibis in town! But—Carmelita had actually _stolen_ Wade from somewhere, by her own admission. And she knew that someone had murdered the man _Peter_ had come from. Was it possible that there were people after both chibis?

With those thoughts running through her brain she was irritated, but not entirely surprised to see two large men in her home, trying to force the door to her room open. “What,” she demanded of the two men in the hall, “do you think you’re doing?”

The two of them straightened and looked down at her. They easily towered over her—but James was just in the living room (having warned her about them), and she’d spent a good portion of her afternoon hiding in a supply closet before heading back to find out that there was going to be a petition to change the school mascot from an elf to a troll because Emma hadn’t managed to explain to the teacher why that was a bad idea. In short—she was _done_ with the day.

The one closest to the door reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like an authentic, City of Elfin Grove police badge. “We’ve come to collect your chibis. They’re evidence in a murder.”

They made two mistakes. One, that they assumed there _had_ been a murder in the town that Gwen hadn’t heard about. The town wasn’t that big— _every_ murder was big news. Two, Gwen knew all of the officers and detectives in the _county—_ and these two bozos weren’t on the force.

Gwen pulled out her phone, speed dialed her father, and when the man answered asked, “Is there an unsolved murder that my chibis are evidence in? I’ve got two men outside my bedroom saying they’re evidence in a murder investigation.” She listened to the angered ranting for a moment before smiling evilly at the men in front of her and handing over the phone. “It’s for you,” she said sweetly.

She was prepared for their reactions as they realized that they were on phone with the chief of police. When the second guy, not holding her phone, tried to slip past her she tripped him. He looked up—just as James lowered the house gun towards the man’s face. “I wouldn't,” James said mildly, eyes cold like steel.

Gwen grinned and leaned against the wall to block the other man from leaving. Soon the house was swarming with officers—from the neighboring county. Gwen’s father came in as the two men were arrested and Gwen’s phone was handed back to her. Gwen’s father locked eyes with her stepfather for a moment. “James,” said Gwen’s father politely.

“George,” said James, just as politely. Gwen rolled her eyes and made her way into her room as soon as the way was clear. There, in the little house, Wade had Peter pushed behind him and was holding what looked like an oddly shaped sword in his hands.

“Whoa!” Gwen said flinging up her hands. A little bit of sweat and uneasiness prickled at her—she’d seen what the chibi had done with a handful of _pencils_. “It’s just me!”

The point wobbled and then Wade dropped the sword-like thing with a sigh. “Waaade,” he complained.

“That’s why I started shutting the door,” Gwen explained gently as she walked over to the house.

“Uwa!” cried Peter as he launched himself into her arms and cried.

“Aw, you must have been scared,” she said as she tried to soothe the little chibi. “It’s okay; you’re safe.” She reached out to Wade. “You too,” she said firmly. Wade crawled over and then snuggled up against her hand allowing her to pull him out of the house and hold him close to her. “It’s okay,” she soothed them. Her eyes drifted towards the sword-like thing and she narrowed her eyes at it. “Is that my letter opener?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwen is at her club activity when she gets sent to the Teacher's lounge only to see Carmelita getting attacked by her boyfriend. Gwen intervenes, they hide in a supply closet, and Gwen learns that Wade was stolen. She doesn't get a chance to find out where he came from.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen interrogates Carmalita while Mary Jane mediates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah--I know it's been a while, but it's a bit longer of a chapter. Still enjoying?

Gwen had insured that no one from her family (except for Mary Jane) would eavesdrop on the conversation with Carmelita by telling everyone that she was going to work on building something for Wade. Just like the area within three yards of the house was treated as though she’d turned it into a minefield. The only people in the shop, as she carefully screwed sanded pieces of wood together, were her, Carmelita, and Mary Jane.

Gwen wasn’t entirely certain why Mary Jane was there. She claimed it was for “moral support” but Gwen rather thought her stepsister was afraid she was going to kill Carmelita. “Calm down,” she ordered her fidgeting stepsister. “I’m not planning to _kill_ her; I just want to ask a few questions.”

Carmelita’s beautiful face twisted into a nasty sneer. “Of course you just want to ask questions. That’s why you made sure that no one else would be here!” The arrogance didn’t quite hide the terror.

Gwen looked up from what she was doing and met cheerleader’s gaze through the safety goggles she was wearing. “My parents,” she said, “may be divorced, but they still talk. If Mom heard me asking you why your boyfriend thought taking Triple S was a bad idea, she’d ask Dad what it is. Then Dad would come and shake me down for the information—which he wouldn't get, which knows and I know, and it’s just easier for everyone involved if the confrontation doesn’t happen in the first place. So, yes. I made sure no one would be close enough to hear anything—and _what_ the Hell were you _thinking_ ? Do you have any idea how dangerous that drug _is_?”

“It’s not my fault!” protested Carmelita. “I didn’t get him on that!”

“What happened?” asked Mary Jane softly.

Carmelita shifted in her seat. Gwen went back to her work, keeping the noise down she she could hear. “We were out practicing one day when this man came up. He’d just been complaining that he wasn’t as fast as Rabbit.”

Gwen snorted. “No one is as fast as rabbit,” she said.

“That’s what _I_ said. But the man said he had a way to make him even faster. Stronger. And he said it wasn’t a steroid.”

“It’s not,” Gwen answered. “But that doesn’t mean it’s safe.” She sighed and set down the thing she was building to look at Carmelita again. “As it’s used the drug severs emotional connections in the brain. This isn’t a side effect—it’s _designed_ that way.”

“What?” Carmelita stared at Gwen in shock, looking lost and vulnerable. If Gwen hadn’t known what a complete and total bitch the girl could be, she would have felt sorry for her. “Why?” she asked.

Gwen sighed, took off her goggles, and ran her hands over hair that was (once again) slipping out of her hair band. Honestly, with as many geniuses as there were in the world, couldn’t _one_ of them come up with a hairband that actually _stayed in_ all day long? “I can think of several reasons,” Gwen said wearily as she grabbed a stool and took a seat. “None of them are good.” Mary Jane was watching her with dark green eyes as Carmelita stared with her brown ones.

For just one moment, Gwen admired the picture the two of them made. Mary Jane; thin, pale, and ethereal sitting next to Carmelita; dark, voluptuous, and earthy. Two very different types of beauty, next to each other like a set of stark contrasts.

None of it made her like Carmelita more. Gwen sighed and rubbed her eyes to stave off the impending headache. “Suppose,” she said, “for just a moment, that I’m an evil genius who wants to take over the world.”

“Suppose?” muttered Carmelita darkly. Gwen glared at her. She didn’t _have_ to explain this.

Mary Jane cleared her throat. “And?” she prompted delicately.

“Right.” Another glare at Carmelita before turning her attention to her stepsister. “There are three things a potential world ruler needs; money, power, and influence.”

“What does _that_ have to do with anything?” demanded Carmelita petulantly.

Gwen ignored her. “Now, let’s say I have this drug. This drug makes people stronger. It makes people less sentimental. It makes them susceptible to rage. This makes them potential perfect soldiers.”

“How?”

Again, Gwen ignored her as she continued. “This drug is also addictive, so I know they’ll be loyal to _me_ . They will have an investment in keeping _me_ alive, well, and happy—because I control the drug.” She shrugged. “First step to domination; an army that is completely loyal, incorruptible, and dedicated. Also, let’s not forget the fact that they started getting this drug _because I sold it to them_. Which means, money.”

“You think a common drug dealer is aiming to take over the world?” asked Carmelita flatly as she stared at Gwen with disbelief.

“I think that’s just one scenario, looking at the problem from one angle. Now, let’s take a moment to just look at the drug. Assume the drug is the end game. One; the drug is _highly_ addictive. Regular addicts will do _almost_ anything to get more of it. By severing the ability of the addicted to empathize, it takes out the ‘almost’ from the equation. There is _nothing_ an addict of Triple S won’t do to get more of the drug.” She sighed and glanced at Carmelita. She could see the girl didn’t understand. “Imagine,” she said, “someone who has _no_ empathy. _No_ compassion. _No_ regret.”

“Like a psychopath?” asked Carmelita.

Gwen shrugged. “Sure,” she said blandly. “Like what modern media portrays psychopathy to be.” Carmelita frowned and Gwen moved on before the girl could dissect the statement. “Why were you carrying that crap around in your purse?”

It was Carmelita’s turn to shrug. “Coach searches lockers and duffels, to make sure everyone’s clean.”

The simplicity of the set up stunned Gwen for a moment. The (ex)boyfriend would never be caught with the drug—because he wouldn't _have_ the drug. And Carmelita wouldn't be caught—because _no one_ was looking for _Carmelita_ to be on drugs. Perhaps there was more to the drug than Gwen had thought.

“It’s still dangerous, Carmelita,” Mary Jane said softly. “The cheerleaders might not be searched that often—but what if you had been? You’d be kicked off the team.”

Carmelita and Gwen stared at the girl for a moment, both wearing identical looks of incredulity. Off the team? Was that _really_ the worst consequence Mary Jane could see? The two of them exchanged a look and then, by mutual silent agreement, changed the topic.

“Tell me about Wade,” Gwen said firmly. “You said you stole him.”

Carmelita looked down, fingering the fringe on her colorful jacket. “I go with Papa,” she said softly, “to visit places for his work. Factories. Mills. Laboratories.”

Gwen nodded. It made sense. Carmelita’s father, like his father before him, was huge into networking. He always said that there was no telling when he would find the perfect combination for investment—and he _always_ inspected businesses before investing. There was a reason he was one of the richest people in Elfin Grove.

The fingers twitched over the fringe faster, tangling in the fabric. “I wandered off,” she said. “There was this—this section. Where they were—disposing.”

Gwen held up a hand that, staring at her lap as she was, Carmelita couldn't see. “I’m familiar how labs work,” she said gently. She knew, _everyone_ at school knew, about how rabid an animal rights activist Carmelita was. Seeing a lab dispose of test animals—when she was with her father and unable to do anything about it—must have been heartbreaking for the girl. Gwen herself didn’t agree with animal testing. Oh, she _understood_ it—but she didn’t _agree_ with it. It was one of the reasons she didn’t see herself in a scientific career—she would rather skip the animal testing phase and move straight on to people.

Carmelita’s hands clenched into fists and she looked up at Gwen with tear-filled eyes. “ _Not_ just rats or rabbits or mice,” she said softly. “Chibis.”

Gwen’s heart froze as she thought of her own two adorable chibis. “What?” she asked as her mind raced. How? How had a lab that was clearly looking for funding _afford_ chibis to test on when the damn _book_ was six hundred dollars?!

Carmelita nodded. “They—they were about to be—be burned.”

Incinerated. Horrible—but standard practice for lab animals. They didn’t get proper burials when they died.

“But—but one of them was still alive,” Carmelita said. Her words froze Gwen again. “I saw him moving—so I grabbed him. I—I didn’t know what to do with him. I don’t know anything about chibis—and then you brought one to school.”

One of them had still been alive. That meant—that meant the chibis were being TTD; Tested To Destruction. That meant the lab didn’t want survivors. That was—that was bad news. “What kind of lab?” asked Gwen hollowly.

“Brighton,” replied Carmelita.

Horror began to settle in Gwen as she stared, unseeing, at the world in front of her. “Led by Dr. Conners?” she asked flatly. She knew the answer before Carmelita confirmed it.

Dr. Conners—the leading scientist in the field of cellular regeneration. Dr. Conners—with the most citations of “improper facilities” of any practicing scientist alive. The man’s drive for success within his field was legendary.

Pair that with his lab experimenting on chibis which were, as far as Gwen could tell, tiny humans that were slightly out of proportion—and she didn’t like the answers she was coming up with.

“Gwen?”

Brought back to the real world she looked into the worried faces of her stepsister; who firmly believed in the good of all people, and Carmelita; high school bully. Gwen sighed. “I can’t believe it.”

“You think I made it up—”

“Mary Jane is a better judge of character than I am.”

There was a moment of silence in the shop. “You—have your good points,” Mary Jane said slowly.

“You’re beautiful, well-dressed, _and_ intuitive,” drawled Gwen. “I don’t compete.” While Carmelita blinked rapidly at the change in conversation, Gwen slipped her safety goggles back on and went back to what she was doing.

“What are you making?” asked Mary Jane, curious.

“Wade likes to mark things up,” Gwen explained. “I thought I’d give him a studio to paint in.” She finished the simple, plain room as she took paper from a sketchbook and began cutting it into equal sizes, roughly proportional to a canvas for a chibi. “I also got some of those kid safe finger paints—you know, the ones that assume the kids are going to eat them?” Mary Jane nodded. “Yeah, thought he’d like that.”

Mary Jane smiled. “His clothes are almost done. He’s bigger than Peter is.”

“Yup,” said Gwen distractedly as she drilled a hole through the top of the stack and slipped a metal ring through it in order to make it a small pad for the chibi. She’d already made an easel earlier and put the newly made book on it. “There,” she said with satisfaction. She smiled as she looked at the small studio—not a bad construction considering she’d had less than half an afternoon.

“He’ll like that.”

“I hope so.” Gwen put the safety goggles back on their peg and then picked up the small studio. “Time to see.” They followed her into the house so that Mary Jane could hold the studio while Gwen wrestled her door open.

“One of these days, we’re going to have to fix that,” Mary Jane said thoughtfully.

Gwen’s mind drifted to the two times her door had saved the chibis. “Maybe,” she said as she took the studio back. “Be in later with the wardrobe?”

“You’ll have to let me in.”

“Got it.” Gwen went in, closed the door, and walked over to the small house on her dresser. “Wade, come here,” she ordered as she set the studio down next to the house. “I made you something.” The scarred chibi peeked out of the house and into the studio.

“Wade?” he asked as he stepped in and looked around the plain thing. He went over to the pad and gently tugged the paper before looking at Gwen with confusion. “Wade?” he asked again as he pointed.

Gwen grinned as she pulled out the small jars of kid-friendly paint. (For all she knew, the colors were flavored.) “A studio for you,” she said as she uncapped them and put the paint streaked lids in the house where Wade could reach them.

Still confused Wade ran a finger along the lid—and his eyes widened at the streak of color now on his finger. He brushed along the paper on the easel watching as his finger made a blue mark on the paper. “Wade!” he said excitedly.

“Yup,” said Gwen smugly as she sat down in her chair. She looked over—to see Peter crouched on the outside of the house, staring at the little studio that Wade was in. She frowned. “Are you—are you sticking to the _wall_?” she asked incredulously.

Peter looked up to see her and quickly jumped down. He made his eyes as wide as possible and put a finger to the side of his mouth. “Awoo?” he asked vacantly.

She sighed. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” she told him. “I don’t care if you climb walls like a spider, but don’t lie to me about it.”

Peter looked at her for a moment, then ran and leaped over to the desk before gently patting her hand. “Awoo,” he crooned, sympathetically.

“Wade!” Wade had jumped out of his little studio and was waving his hands in the air with excitement as paint splattered around him. Gwen winced; she really should have put down newspaper first. Peter ran over to join him and soon both chibis were playing with the paint.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen gets a phone call.

Mrs. Johnson looked at Gwen’s paper and then looked at the teen over edge of her bifocals. “Really?” she asked.

Gwen would be lying if she claimed not to know what the look was for. All over her homework (only in the margins, because they were considerate) were tiny hand prints, doodles, and random streaks of color as Wade and Peter experimented with making their own from the primaries that she’d gotten them. She sighed and brushed a lock of hair irritably out of her face. “I got my chibis finger paints,” she explained, “and they decided my homework needed more art.”

Mrs. Johnson, who routinely had teens that claimed that pets had eaten their homework, that they’d left it at home, or that (in one memorable instance that still made the rounds of the teachers of Elfin Grove High School) he had jumped into the river to save a drowning child (there were no rivers within six miles of Elfin Grove), merely sighed. The elderly woman took the colorfully painted paper, and said, “At least it’s still legible.”

Other teachers were not as understanding. Gwen had a feeling that the school wouldn't be either, when she turned in her texts at the end of the school year. Wade had drawn bright, colorful flowers on the inside of each cover, and Peter had underlined several things in her science and math books in red paint. She wasn’t sure why.

“Can you believe it?” Emma was walking next to Gwen down the hall as Gwen absently navigated while look at a particularly pretty flower. She loved her chibis and thought they were brilliant—but how had Wade managed to paint a flower that was three times his size into the textbooks?

“No. I didn’t even know it was possible to get seven shades of purple from yellow, blue, red, and green,” Gwen grumbled as she closed the book. No more finger paints. Maybe she just get them a box of crayons.

“ _Gwen_!” said Emma, clearly exasperated as she gently shoved her friend’s shoulder. “That’s not what I’m talking about!” The two of them reached Gwen’s locker and she mechanically switched out books so that she could be prepared for her next class. “Harry Osborn’s coming! You know, heir to the Oscorp empire?”

Gwen rolled her eyes as she shut the locker and shouldered her bag. “I _know_ who Harry Osborn is,” she said tartly. “What makes you think he’s coming to Elfin Grove?”

Emma pulled out her phone (a smart phone, like those of almost everyone Gwen knew) and pulled up a press release before passing it back to Gwen as they headed towards the lunch court. Gwen skimmed the article. Apparently, dear old Heir to the Throne (as she mentally cataloged him), had started a small business within the company and was responsible for—chibis?

Emma grabbed her shoulder and hauled her out of the stampeding foot traffic as Gwen quickly read the article. Harry Osborn had been working in one of the many infamous labs at Oscorp with the youngest geneticist in the world, Dr. Henry Wu, when chibis happened. “When I saw how adorable they were, I just had to market them for the world,” Harry was cited as saying.

Good job, Harry. You marketed them to the world at _six hundred dollars_ a damn _book_. Yup. You’re clearly just for the masses.

Gwen didn’t realize she was talking until Emma smacked her. “Keep those attitudes to yourself,” her friend said firmly.

“Right,” said Gwen absently as she continued reading. According to the article, Harry was making visits to small towns in order to promote his product. His insanely expensive, difficult to maintain product. “Why Elfin Grove?” asked Gwen as she handed the phone back to Emma and the two continued to the court.

“Why _not_ Elfin Grove?”

“Because we’re in the middle of nowhere and have nothing technologically prominent,” Gwen replied back as they got in line.

No one with any claim to sanity ate the school cafeteria food. It wasn’t safe for human consumption; Gwen didn’t care what the health board said about it. Fortunately, several restaurants had small carts up at the court during the three lunches, selling actual food.

“We’ve got Doc Conner’s lab,” Emma said.

Gwen snorted. Sure. The most prominent, scientifically advanced mega-corporation in the _world_ wanted to come to a small town in the middle of nowhere because of a shady scientist who’s mere reputation could easily drop their stocks.

Suddenly she remembered what Carmelita said about the labs. Maybe there _was_ another reason for Osborn Jr to come to Elfin Grove. Maybe it had something to do with those TTD chibis.

“I know that look,” groaned Emma as they moved up in the line. “You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you.?”

“No. Well, maybe,” admitted Gwen. She tried not to lie to her friends. Her phone rang and she stepped out of the line and into a calm spot no one was walking in. “Hello?” she asked. A few people pointed at her antiquated flip phone. She ignored them.

“I’m not sure how _professional_ it is to speak to a child,” a voice drawled into the phone.

Gwen couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. So, the bait had been taken. “If _I’m_ a child,” she asked, “what are you?”

“Reaching out. Wondering if your sandbox is really worth the effort you’re making me go through.”

“There _are_ other sandboxes out there,” Gwen replied amiably. “And probably much less work,” she added.

“Hmm. But I need _that_ sandbox.”

“All right then. But, if you’re going to play in my play ground, you’re going to play by my rules.”

“Or?”

“Or you don’t get to play.”

There was a raspy chuckle on the other end. “Do you,” the voice asked, “really think you can _stop_ me?”

“I think I already have.”

There was silence for a moment before she heard a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh, and she _has_ bite! Are you going to _bite_ me?”

“Only if you piss me off. Or ask very nicely,” Gwen replied flippantly.

“Well Darling,” drawled the other voice in an affectation of a Southern accent, “I’m coming down to meet you. Perhaps we can negotiate some play time in that sandbox of yours.”

“Perhaps. And perhaps,” added Gwen, “I’m understandably nervous about meeting someone who won’t even give me his name.”

“Oh? A name is it, Little Miss Professional? And will you trade me, a name for a name?”

“I will,” agreed Gwen blandly.

“Well then, Professional, you can call me Theo.”

“Well then,” said Gwen mimicking his tone perfectly, “You can call me Gwen.”

Another chuckle before Theo said, “Well then, _Gwen_ , I’ll see you in Elfin Grove. But will _you_ see _me_?” He hung up.

She flipped her phone closed, still smiling and turned to look at Emma who was staring at her while eating her nachos. “That was some heavy flirting,” Emma said carefully avoiding getting the molten cheese on her clothes. “And I only heard half the conversation.”

Gwen mulled it over with a smile as the bell rang. “Certainly an interesting one,” she purred.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's day in Elfin Grove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I don't know why the Harry chapters are so long. Sorry this took a while to type up, and we've had storms and power issues lately. Hope you enjoy!

“You preen much more and you’re going to look like Norman.”

Harry grimaced and turned to face his brother, who was lounging on the  hotel bed, playing on his phone. “Please don’t say that,” he begged.

Theo sighed and sat up to meet Harry’s eyes. “Harry,” he said firmly, “you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that we look like our father.”

They did. Everyone said so. It was almost as if they were clones of their father, instead of his offspring. Which might explain why Norman was so disappointed in Harry, if he was honest.

Instead he grimaced again. “ I don’t have to like it,” he complained.

Theo got up and gently smacked his shoulder. “You don’t. And the less you act like his little puppet, mindlessly obeying orders, the less you seem like him.” His brother suddenly grinned. “And, hey!” he said cheerfully. “Preening in the mirror isn’t going to make everyone suddenly love you. Remember, you’re going to a high school. At best, you’re only a year older.”

“Grand,” muttered Harry. He sighed and pressed against his temple to try and stop the headache he could feel blooming. Did he have enough time to take one of his meds? No, because the only ones he had with him were the ones that would put him to sleep all day and he had work to do. No matter what his father thought, it was work; real work.

“Cheer up. It’s high school, and you’re the son of one of the richest people in the world. Maybe you’ll get laid.”

“Maybe I’ll get the flu.” It was common banter between the two of them and Harry felt slightly better. He was still going to have to speak in front a room full of strangers that had no invested interest in even _pretending_ to like him—and then do it over and over again all day long. “I’m going to be sick,” he complained as he raced to the bathroom.

“It’s just nerves!” Theo called out to him.

A few minutes later, after drinking some anti-nausea medicine (over the counter, of course, because Norman wouldn't admit his precious _offspring_ might need _real_ help, or real medication for the crippling social anxiety rather than sleeping pills) Harry was in the car with his driver. The man looked up at him in the rear view mirror and asked, “Where to?” His voice was carefully calm, like those of most of his father’s employees.

“High school,” replied Harry despondently. He tried to smile. He _tried_ to be friendly with his father’s staff. “Haven’t you heard?” he asked. “I’m giving lectures today.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” the driver said in the flat way that only someone who believes the situation to be beyond repair would use.

“Thanks,” said Harry wearily. They pulled up to the sprawling campus of the local high school and he gripped the arm rest for a moment. He didn’t have a lot of fond memories of high school, and couldn’t believe that he was willingly walking into the campus just because his father was worried about what his brother was doing. “Slow, deep breaths,” he muttered to himself as he tried to take the advice.

“Are you all right?” the driver asked sharply. Probably afraid of the Hell Norman would unleash if his kid died in the backseat.

“I’m fine. See?” He tried to smile. “Fine.” He took a deep, slow breath. “I got this,” he told himself. His therapist had told him that positive comments to himself would help his social anxiety.

His therapist was full of shit.

He didn’t feel better; he didn’t feel like he could suddenly handle it—but he was used to pretending. To putting on the facade of the perfect son; he’d been doing it as long as he could remember. He pulled himself back together just enough and got out of the car before heading to the office.

The secretary was thrilled to meet him and offered to walk him to the study hall that he was going to be using to address the student body. “We may have some—problem students,” she said gently, “but I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Harry smiled. “I’m sure you’ve thought of everything,” he assured her as they reached one of the buildings.

“Oh, I’m sorry couldn't have a real theatre for you, but your father said—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said, his heart sinking. Of course his father would make sure he confronted class after class instead of getting it all done at the same time. Of course. “I’m sure it’s better for the students if their schedule isn’t disrupted too much.”

The study hall was an auditorium and he quickly exchanged greetings with the teacher in charge as students trickled in. Two thin blonds that almost looked like sisters sat in the front row, one of them watching him with intent, intelligent eyes that almost made him his anxiety start up again. He pushed the feeling down. He was well versed in pushing the feelings down before they caused a scene—in public. Once he got back to the hotel though, all bets were off.

He started with the general lecture about what Oscorp was and why it existed, and then moved on to the chibis. He had several slides that were set up, detailing the life of a newly created chibi and one of the students raised a hand. “Yes?” he asked looking at the student. True, he wasn’t supposed to answer questions until the Q&A section, but he didn’t figure that there would be any harm.

“So—you just created an entire species. In a lab.”

Harry smiled. “What is the hallmark of a species?” he asked looking around the room. “It is the ability to reproduce and produce viable offspring that are capable of reproducing themselves. As of yet, none of the chibis have.”

“What are they then?” asked another student.

Harry smiled fondly at the thought of his chibis. “Precious,” he said simply, and moved on with his lecture including an anecdote where they discovered one of the chibis was allergic to fish—and, unfortunately, that particular chibi _loved_ fish with a passion.

At the end of the lecture, when he reached the section for questions and answers, the blond that had caught his eye earlier raised her hand. “So, in short, chibis are tiny people with the mentality of friendly dogs,” she said.

“Essentially, yes.”

“I have two chibis,” she continued, “and I can’t help but wonder if maybe one of them is possessed?” A chorus of laughter and titters rang through the auditorium—but she didn’t look at the other students or even acknowledge them. She was watching _him_.

And he had no idea what the best response is. “Possessed?” he asked curiously. “What makes you think that?” And, just then, a loud chime sounded over the intercom signaling the end of the class. Thinking quickly he jumped down to be on the same level as the girl—the beautiful girl, if he was honest. “Wait!” he said desperately. “I want to know more.”

She met his gaze levelly for a moment. “Are you going to be here after school?” she asked. “I can take you to my house and show you what I mean.” She ignored the other blond who smirked and elbowed her in the side.

The last person Harry had met who met his gaze that firmly was Dr. Wu—before they’d made the chibi breakthrough and all his attention had been diverted to the tiny people in front of him and how they worked. He smiled. “Would your parents be all right with that?” he asked, remembering that, if she was attending this school, she was technically a minor.

She rolled her eyes. “My mother will be thrilled,” she said cryptically as she turned and left with a wave.

None of the other classes were that engaging and he went through them mostly on autopilot. At the end of the last one, as the driver came to collect him, he began to wonder if the girl had forgotten him. He wouldn't be surprised; as people went he _was_ rather forgettable, most of what seemed to stick in people’s minds were his father’s accomplishments. He tried not to perk up too much when the blond arrived, tucking hair behind her ear as she looked around the room at them, clearly unimpressed. “Are you still good with meeting my chibis?” she asked.

The driver frowned at her. “He has to get back to his hotel.”

Harry’s heart sank as he wondered just what Norman’s orders had been to the driver. The girl simply looked at him. “Does he have a meeting?” she pressed. “A client that he absolutely must see?”

“Uh—no,” admitted the driver.

“Then he can come to my house, and stay for dinner. I’ve already cleared it with my mother. Come on, Mr. Osborn, I can drive us there.”

“Harry,” he said with a smile at the girl. “Mr. Osborn is my father.”

The girl grinned at him. “Gwen,” she introduced. His eyes tracked to the badge which stated her name was Gwendolyn Stacey. “No one calls me Gwendolyn except my mother,” she added firmly.

He felt a smile break onto his face. “Very well, Gwen,” he said. “I’d love to meet your family.” She snorted

“Sir, your father—” began the driver, almost desperately.

“Is his father here?” asked Gwen, sweetly. Her voice was so sweet it almost crystalized in the air.

Harry took a step back. He could hear the venom underlying the sweetness and he stared at the unassuming looking girl. There was more to her than met the eye.

“Well, no, but—”

“And is he eighteen? Which is, I’d like to take a moment to remind you, the age legally used to define ‘adult’?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then he can do what he wants to do,” said Gwen dismissively as she turned to Harry. “What do you want to do?” she asked.

“Sir, your medication,” reminded the driver.

Ah, yes. His medication. He was supposed to take it regularly, never skip a dose, and yet it never seemed to do anything. He could postpone it. That wouldn't hurt anything. “It’ll be fine,” Harry said as he gave Gwen a slight bow. “May I come with you?”

An eyebrow arched slightly as she grinned. “Only after the third date,” she teased.

It took a moment, but when he understood what she’d said he flushed and sputtered as she laughed. Her laugh sounded amazing. He wanted to hear more of it. “After you,” he said gamely as he gestured and tried to remind himself that she probably wasn’t interested in _him_. Most people weren’t.

“I should hope so,” Gwen said, just as teasingly as before, “since _I’m_ the one who knows where I’m parked.” As they crossed towards the parking lot and the driver fell far enough behind them (probably stepping away to call his father and tattle about his behavior), Gwen added, “Your father’s a bit of a control freak, isn’t he?”

Harry grimaced. “You have no idea,” he said vehemently. Then he paused. He thought about Norman’s carefully crafted public image. “How’d you know?” he asked curiously. There was no way a girl living in the middle of nowhere could have met Norman.

“I’ve had experience dealing with people under firm thumbs,” she said.

“Ah,” replied Harry. He tried to think of something to say as she unlocked an older model white car.

“Personally, I find that what those sorts need to stop interfering is a good thumbtack in just the right place,” said Gwen.

“Are you the tack?” asked Harry, fascinated. For a moment he debated the wisdom of getting into the car with her.

She grinned at him over the car’s roof, completely unrepentant. “Only if I have to be,” she told him.

He smiled back and got into the car. The more he spoke to this spunky girl, the more he liked her. He wouldn’t do anything about it, of course, but he was beginning to like her too much.

“ _You like someone too much when you start imagining a future with them. You don’t_ have _a future I don’t approve.”_

Harry shoved his father’s voice out of his mind. He wasn’t with his father. He wasn’t with his father’s employees. He was with someone who wanted to talk to him about his pet project, the chibis. “What makes you think your chibi might be possessed?” he asked.

She’s quiet for a moment as she drives away from the school. “It’s hard to explain,” she said. She sighed as she turned onto (what he assumed was) a main road. “Okay, no. It’s _easy_ to explain. I’m just worried you’ll think I’m insane if I tell you, so I’d rather just let you see it.”

“See it?”

“Trust me,” Gwen said grimly as she turned onto a different street and began driving through neighborhoods, “he does it every day. Well, now. I think he was hiding it at first. Why chibis? As in what you call them,” she added quickly.

Harry grinned at her as she made another turn in the maze of streets. The houses were getting father apart from each other. One of the houses they passed had a cow in the front yard. “Do you really want to know?” he asked.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn't ask,” Gwen said. There was an impish quality to her tone of voice as she calmly braked for a kid running into the street. “That’s Kevin,” she explained. “He’s home schooled.” He waved at her and she waved back before continuing on.

“Well,” said Harry as he took a moment to think about what they’d been talking about. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“You would be _amazed_ at how well I keep secrets,” Gwen drawled playfully.

“But our very own Dr. Wu—is a weeaboo.”

Gwen looked at him in disbelief. “No,” she breathed.

“Oh, yes. Top secret information, you understand.” He winked.

She laughed, the sound filling the car as she pulled into the drive of a house on top of a hill. It was the only house on the top of the hill, had what looked like half a barn behind it, and wide green spaces. “Come on,” she said as she parked and unbuckled. “I’ll introduce you.”

They went inside. There was a boy on the floor, lying prone and swinging his feet in the air while eating an apple as he read a book. Harry, curious, dropped so that he could see what the boy was reading. He was reading a book called, _What Is Thought?_ Harry blinked as he recognized the college level philosophy book.

“That’s my brother, Ian. Ian, this is Harry.”

Without looking up Ian waved his apple in the air. “Hey Harry,” he said absently before taking another bite of it.

“Hello Ian,” said Harry, slightly dazed. If _this_ was her brother—what could the chibi possibly be doing to make her think it was possessed?

“Gwen? A word.” The dark voice came from the kitchen and Gwen calmly walked that way, Harry following.

“Hey, Mom,” said Gwen as she walked into the kitchen. “What’s up?”

“Your father is complaining about that business again,” said the woman irritably as Harry wondered what she was talking about. “I don’t care what you do about it, but make him drop the subject!”

“I have no control over what Dad obsesses over,” observed Gwen. “Anyway, this is Harry.”

Harry put on his patented Corporate Smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Stacey.”

“Watson,” Gwen corrected.

“Mrs. Watson,” Harry corrected himself.

She smiled at him and it was easy to see where her daughter got her good looks. “Hello Harry,” she said warmly.

“Harry,” Gwen said, “is an expert at chibi psychology. I thought he might be able to help.”

The woman frowned. “With the dangerous one that killed all my gerbils?” she demanded.

“Yeah, him too. And the gerbils were evil Mom,” said Gwen firmly.

“They were _not_.”

Harry watched in confusion as she grabbed a cutting board. “Yeah, they were,” she said. “This way,” she said leading him down the hall to a room. He stared. The frame didn’t seem quite large enough for the door in it.

“Does that door even fit?” he asked as she bent and placed her shoulder under the knob.

“Poorly,” she grunted as she heaved the door open and held the cutting board over her head.

Harry stared in shock as a chibi, wielding a letter opener like a sword, slammed the weapon point first into the cutting board.

Gwen didn’t even seem phased. “Ha!” she said triumphantly. She held the cutting board away from her body as the scarred chibi began frantically to try and pull it out of the cutting board. “Bet you didn’t think of that, did you?” she asked as she stepped into the room.

Eyes still on the cutting board and its burden of chibi, Harry followed. He swallowed. “I can see why you think he’s possessed,” he said weakly.

“What? No. Wade’s pissed, not possessed.” She snorted and put the cutting board on a dresser next to what looked like a huge doll house. As he got closer he saw that it wasn’t a doll house at all—it was a house designed for chibis, including amenities. “I took away the finger paints.”

“Wade!” The chibi stomped his foot with a scowl as he gestured to the house. “Wade wade wade!” he added.

“You marked all over my school books,” Gwen said, clearly unimpressed. “You’re not—neither of you are—getting finger paints again until I’m sure that _won’t_ happen again.”

“Wade!”

“You’re just going to have to make do with crayons.”

“Wade wade _wade_!”

“Anyway,” Gwen said shifting mid-conversation to look at Harry, “the one I think might be possessed is the one on the wall behind you with the illegal cookie.”

Curious Harry turned—and stared. There, stuck to the middle of the wall, was a sheepish chibi trying to hide a cookie the same size as itself behind its back. He gaped at the sight as Gwen shifted and lectured the chibi about eating too many sweets. She plucked the cookie out of its hands and it sighed. “Awoo,” it complained before pointing its arm at the house, _shooting white string_ , and swinging over to drop by Wade.

Harry quickly sat down before his legs could give out.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo has a couple of conversations.

Harry’s brow crinkled into a frown. “I don’t remember those types,” he complained to Theo even as his eyes began to close. “I know every type of chibi, but I don’t remember them.” He pointed at Theo. “I would definitely remember _that_.”

“I’m sure it’ll all work out,” Theo told him gently. Harry tried to stay awake (he always did), but the medicine sent him under.

Theo _hated_ Norman for that. The man simply could not be satisfied with the bright son he’d produced and felt the need to drug him out of existence for hours at a time. Well, Theo had a plan for _him…_

Speaking of plans. He quickly took the phone and called Good Dr. Wu. Ha. If Harry had any idea what the scientist was, he’d be horrified—which was why Harry would never find out, not as long as Theo had anything to say about it.

“What?” demanded the scientist angrily.

Theo simply smiled. “What? You’re not happy to hear from your cohort in crime? How pitiful. Almost makes me think I’m not needed.” He faked a sob.

A sigh ruffled through the line. “What do you want?” asked the scientist wearily.

“Aw, is that any way to talk to someone who has a line on your missing chibi? Experiment twenty-two, to be specific.”

“How?” demanded the voice on the other end.

Theo chuckled as he set up his own personal weapon kit. He wasn’t strong enough to take on a physical attacker—and he knew it. But he had more than enough of his “special formula” to make him an even match. Just in case he was attacked, not that he was planning on it. “You wouldn't _believe_ what washes up after a storm,” he said.

“Well, when can I get it back?” asked Henry.

Ah, good old Henry. Always focused on his goals. “Possibly never,” he said cheerfully. Harry was still asleep. Of _course_ he was. “He seems to have landed in the hands of a girl who knows, quite literally, _nothing_ about chibis. Oh, and she seems to like Harry.”

A snort rang through the line like a gunshot. “They all _seem_ to like Harry,” Henry replied darkly.

They did. Right up until Norman got involved. Theo _hated_ the man. “And if that’s the case, I’ll repo your chibi for you,” Theo said lightheartedly as he walked to the hotel room’s mini-fridge and pulled a bottle of water out of it. “But for now, consider it lost. Pretend you’ll never see twenty-two again.”

“Or?”

“Or I make sure Harry finds out about your side business of sending chibis for animal testing. Come now,” he said as he heard the distinctive gasp on the other end, “did you think I wouldn't figure it out?”

“Chibis have more structural similarities with humans than animals do,” Henry replied darkly.

“Which means—not a damn thing. If Harry finds out he _will_ figure out how to terminate the project—and the two of you haven’t figured out how to trigger chibis to breed yet, have you?”

“Dr. Conners is doing some very important research—”

“Dr. Conners is it?” asked Theo. “Thank you Henry, you’ve been very helpful. Give my best to whatever actually manages to love your cold, dead heart.” Theo ended the call and then brought up the information on the mysterious Dr. Who was—studying regeneration?

Theo blinked as he stared into space while turning the information over in his mind. He didn’t like the implications of Norman being so close to a doctor tinkering with regeneration—not while he was still treating Harry like a guinea pig. Not while Harry still couldn't bring himself to defy their father.

The blond little tart was an unexpected blessing. She’d reminded Harry that he was, technically, an adult and didn’t _have_ to listen to his father anymore. Theo could kiss her for that.

Speaking of the tart, he dialed her. “Aurora County Morgue; you stab ‘em we slab ‘em, and how many in your party this evening?” drawled the voice on the other end.

He chuckled. “Just one; the boy who wants to play,” he replied teasingly.

“Oh?” The smooth response made him shiver. He wanted to meet this girl in person—but didn’t dare. She was too close to Harry. “Ready to agree to play by my rules?”

Theo chuckled as he turned away from Harry to look at the window of the room. “Sweetheart,” he crooned, “you haven’t even told me what these ‘rules’ are. How do I know they don’t compromise me?”

“You don’t,” she replied back, just as sweetly. “After all, it’s not like you’ve said why you want to play.”

Theo grinned at the exchange. Women just didn’t want to banter with him. Either they were in awe of the Osborn name, or they were terrified of him. He didn’t blame them; he worked hard to be terrifying. That didn’t change the fact the occasional friendly banter was fun too.

“Well, I thought this would be a perfect little town to raise my profile in.”

“As someone living in this provincial life,” Gwen quipped back, “I have no problem with it. But,” she added firmly, viciously, “none of your ‘product’ is to find itself in my sandbox.”

“Oh?”

“Oh. I don’t know what the purpose of Gobby Gas or Triple S is, but I don’t want them in my club.”

“ _Your_ club?”

“Thanks to your little stunt; I now own half of it.”

He gave a low whistle of appreciation when he realized something. “You know I make Triple S?”

She snorted. “You practically signed it,” she said condescendingly.

He had. He put the same signature on all his work—and she was the first to notice. “True.” He thought for a moment. Clearly there was more to this girl. She was something special. “I’ll have you know,” he said after a moment, “that Triple S goes through a third party distributor. I have no control over that.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Really.”

“Very well. An insider tip, just for you. Since you’re being cooperative and all.”

He smiled again. “I’m all ears,” he told Gwen.

“Your third party is about to go down.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen goes around Downtown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry it's late. Under the weather.

“No.” Gwen saw Eddie glare at her, saw the way his eyes shifted nervously—and knew that she’d win the argument. She usually did.

“Come on, Eddie,” Gwen said coaxingly as she leaned against his desk. “You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn’t important.”

Eddie busied himself with forming a potential layout for tomorrow’s paper. It was too soon, of course, but he needed something to do with his hands as Gwen pierced him with her blue eyes. She was well aware of how uncomfortable she made him, and used it to her advantage.

“It doesn’t matter how important this is,” Eddie said nervously. “Your father would kill me!”

“They came into my school,” Gwen said, cold fury radiating from her words as she seethed. “Into _my_ school, right into the football training grounds, endangering _my_ classmates.” It didn’t matter that she didn’t like Carmelita. The girl was a fellow student in Gwen’s school, end of discussion.

Eddie made the mistake of meeting Gwen’s gaze and looked away again, fidgeting and rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s—”

“Not all,” interrupted Gwen grimly. “You didn’t see the specs on that drug; I did. It’s maliciously designed.”

Eddie snorted and muttered, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

She chose to ignore that remark. “I will not let them run all over my school,” she said firmly. “Adults—yeah, adults have more choices than kids have.”

“ _You’re_ a kid.”

“I’m _more_ than a kid.” Her gaze dared him to refute the comment. He didn’t. “I _have_ to do this or what happened to Carmelita will only be the tip of the iceberg.”

He softened. Like most adults, like most people, he had a soft spot for the sharp-tongued dark beauty. She didn’t _like_ it, but she’d take advantage of it. After all, she was now waging a war.

He sighed and ran his hand through his dusky hair. “You don’t know what you’re going against, but I’ll help. I can’t do it myself.”

“I know.” She did know; and she understood. Gwen wasn’t about to hold his past against him. Or his night terrors. There was a reason the experienced photographer had moved to Elfin Grove.

“What are you going to do for a camera?” he asked, surprising her.

“I was going to borrow one of Grandma’s,” Gwen said.

Eddie stared at her in horror for a moment. “Your grandmother,” he said firmly, “is a lovely, frightening woman and I will say nothing bad about her. However, that doesn’t mean she had a camera you can use.” Before Gwen had a chance to react to that statement he turned and went to one of the cabinets. “Now,” he said as he pulled out one of the paper’s cameras, “there is a significant group of people who want to make your little chibi Peter the mascot of Elfin Grove.”

Gwen stared at him. True, the town had no mascot—but Peter? As much as she loved the little chibi, and as much as she adored him, she didn’t understand why. “Why?” she asked.

“When everybody was working to fix up Sister’s he managed to endear himself to almost everyone,” he said as he handed her the camera.

“Huh.” She took the device thoughtfully. “I can’t see Mom agreeing to that.” Not because Gwen’s mother had anything against Peter, but because to put Peter in the spotlight she’d also have to do the same with Wade whom her mother _did_ have a grudge against.

“She didn’t. She was overruled.”

Gwen grinned as she imagined how the meeting had gone. She could just picture people claiming to want Peter as the mascot, praising the little chibi, and shooting down every excuse her mother gave for that to not happen. She had no idea if that was really what had happened, but it was fun to imagine. And, if she just happened to get pictures of something else while she had the camera, well, that was no fault of Eddie’s.

“You,” Gwen told Eddie, “are almost as twisty as I am.” He shuddered and she grinned even wider before taking the camera and stowing it in her bag. “Thanks Eddie!”

“Don’t get yourself killed!” Eddie called after her as she left the office and walked down the street a few storefronts until she reached the crafting store, Yarn Over.

Stepping in she heard the owner, Al, lecturing a customer. “Look,” she said, clearly annoyed, “the first thing I told you at the beginning of the class was to keep in mind your materials.”

“You said a cotton-wool blend was the best kind of yarn!”

“For _blankets_. I _also_ said that you should use a nylon-polyester blend.” Gwen came in to see Al standing behind the counter, glaring daggers at the woman in front of her.

The customer was a tall, thin, toned woman in a way that screamed, “I go to the gym every day!” Al was short, pudgy, and usually friendly. If the two of them actually came to blows (which Al was trying to prevent, which was why she was _behind_ the counter), Al would totally destroy the woman.

Some of that danger filtered through Al’s expression and the woman turned pale before she stammered, “I’m going to leave you a bad review on Yelp!”

“You do that!” Al called to the retreating back. She sighed, shook her head, and then began to chuckle.

“What happened?” asked Gwen curiously.

“Idiot wanted to knit a bathing suit,” Al responded. “And as soon as she got into the water all that cotton-wool absorbed the water and fell right off. In the pool at her gym. Now they’ve got a restrictive list of what is and is not ‘appropriate’ swimming attire and she wanted me to pay her compensation.” She narrowed her eyes at Gwen. “And what does the mastermind of Elfin Grove want from my humble little store?”

Gwen wasn’t entirely certain why, but Al had always been able to see through her from the first time she came in looking at knitting needles. (No, you cannot actually kill someone with a knitting needle. The best you can do is make them blind. And killing people is wrong anyway.) “Mastermind?” Gwen asked as she looked at the elder woman. The silver in her hair (Gwen strongly suspected it was fake; her face wasn’t a day over twelve) glinted in the sunlight entering the shop from the storefront windows. “Isn’t that a little harsh?” she asked.

Al snorted. “You mean for the girl who schemed to get half ownership in a club—before she’s old enough to drink? Not to mention the wheels churning in that pretty little skull of yours.” The woman sighed as she stepped away from the counter. When she stepped near Gwen she looked up into the girl’s blue eyes. “What are you scheming today?” she asked.

“Nothing more than a sketchbook,” Gwen replied. “Preferably, spiral bound,” she added as the woman stared at her in disbelief.

“When did you take up art?” demanded Al.

“Oh, not me. Peter.”

“That adorable little chibi?” asked Al. Gwen nodded in stunned silence. She hadn’t realized that Peter had even managed to make himself popular with the cranky old woman. She hadn’t thought Al really liked anyone.

“Yeah. I’ve also got another one, Wade, that Carmelita—rescued,” admitted Gwen.

Al laughed. “Your face looks so sour!” she gloated. “Like you just bit into a lemon!”

“Yeah, you laugh it up,” grumbled Gwen. “Anyway,” she said changing the subject, “I got the two of them some finger paints.”

“And they marked up all over your stuff,” said Al wisely.

“Well, no,” said Gwen with a frown. “They marked the inside of my schoolbooks. And all over the margins of my homework,” she added.

Al frowned. “Why do you think that is?” she asked.

“I think it’s because the books have pictures in them, so they thought it would be okay?” asked Gwen as she tried to puzzle out the world from a chibi perspective.

“That’s unusually wise, for a chibi,” said Al. She turned her piercing stare towards Gwen again.

“Maybe.” Gwen shrugged. “I don’t know anything about chibis, really. I tried to get a book, but they’re six hundred dollars! Can you _believe_ that? You’d think they didn’t _want_ to sell the thing!”

“Maybe they don’t.”

“Huh? Why wouldn't they?”

Al shook her head and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Airhead.”

Gwen paused. Al wouldn't say that—would she? “That’s rude,” she said, just in case she’d really heard it.

“Never you mind. Now, you want a sketchbook for your little chibis to paint in?”

“Yeah. And Eddie asked me to make them the town mascots.”

Al went still for a moment. “Gwen,” she said slowly, “you go online and check out the videos of those chibis that all their proud papas and magnificent mothers post and you make damn sure that whatever you post does not look much different.” The woman’s voice was solemn as she spoke and she pierced Gwen with her gaze.

“Hey, yeah, no problem,” Gwen agreed.

The mercurial woman’s mood shifted and she smiled again. “Good. Oh, this is a good one, especially for beginners.”

Gwen’s lips curled into a smile. “And, of course, it just _happens_ to be on sale.”

Al graced her with a predatory grin. “Of course.”

Gwen got the sketchbook, tucked it into her bag, and left the store to walk back to her car—when she spotted someone. “Hey, Harry!” she called out. He stopped and wavered a bit and she rushed to catch him before he fell. “Harry? Are you all right?” she asked as he blinked.

“Sorry,” he muttered. He pressed a hand to his face, like his head was hurting, and his speech was slurred.

“Do I need to call someone? Dr. Banner should be in the neighborhood.”

Harry let out a laugh. It sounded bitter, broken. “No. God, no. Father would kill me.” He shook himself and stood up. “I’m just—just sleepwalking, I guess. It’s a side effect of the medication.”

Gwen remembered the man (she’d thought he’d been a driver but now wasn’t entirely sure) who’d insisted that Harry had to take his “medication.” What kind of medication was it? And if it caused sleepwalking, why had Harry been left alone?

She didn’t ask any of those questions. She knew, after Mary Jane, that children felt obliged to defend their parents even if said parents were pieces of shit that needed flushed. “Come on,” she said helping him towards her car. “I’ll take you home.”

“ _My_ home?” asked Harry with vacant dread.

“Ugh. No.” She gently smacked him upside the head. “ _My_ home. Mom’s got a First Responder’s license.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen goes home with Harry, and gets news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. The chapter just would not end.

“Come on, come on,” coaxed Gwen as Harry stumbled in his exhaustion. “Just a little further,” she added as he crossed the threshold into her house. She winced as he stumbled into the end table. That was going to leave a nasty bruise. “That’ll be fun to explain,” she muttered.

“Gwen?” demanded her mother as she came into the living room. She watched as her daughter manhandled a half-conscious young man onto the couch. “What. Are. You. Doing.”

“Calm down,” advised Gwen. She grabbed the throw from the back of the couch and haphazardly covered Harry with it before turning to her mother. “I found him wandering around Downtown, and he said sleepwalking is a side-effect of his medication.”

Gwen’s mother frowned as she stepped forward. She took one of Harry’s wrists in her hands, first two fingers gently pressed against the pulse point before prying his eyes open and checking his eyes. “Who was with him?” the woman asked as she frowned.

“No one,” Gwen grit. The two of them exchanged a look.

“What kind of medication?” asked her mother.

Gwen frowned. “I don’t know,” she said as she thought through what she knew. “He’s been slipping in and out of coherency and consciousness, and he said he tends to sleepwalk on it.” She shook her head. “I’m not familiar with anything like that,” she admitted.

Gwen’s mother looked at her for a moment before she sighed. “I’m sure you will be soon,” she said to her daughter. “Come into the kitchen; I’m making elves.”

“You’re making _what_?!” Gwen followed her mother into the kitchen and saw that her mother was, indeed, making cookie elves. Not happy little elves like Santa’s helpers either; no, these were full on faerie, Lord of the Rings type elves. Several of them even had their own cookie bows. “Why?” she asked.

“Practice. We’re thinking of holding the Treaty Ceremony next month.”

For a moment Gwen’s mind was blissfully blank and then understanding dawned. “You mean that made up holiday that someone proposed on a whim to get tourists down here?” she demanded of her mother.

Who, with eyes so much like Gwen’s no one ever doubted who her mother was, smiled. “Of course,” she purred. “Why, it’s a _much_ better idea than tearing up all the streets downtown to replace them with cobblestone. Which Elfin Grove has never had,” she added.

“Not to mention,” drawled Gwen as she picked up one of the elf cookies whose head promptly fell off, “what cobblestone would have done to the shocks on the local cars.” She took a bite and chewed the flaky cookie thoughtfully. “You’re overworking the gingerbread,” she said.

“Really?” her mother looked doubtful.

“Oh, yeah. Gingerbread isn’t like sugar cookie dough; work it too much and it flakes apart. Still tasty though,” she added as she grabbed a peace offering from the available cookies for her chibis. She put them in a lunch bag, slipped it into the bag over her shoulder, and then went to her room, forcing the door open.

“Oh, awoo woo,” groaned Peter as she got into the room. Ignoring the door she ran over to the house where Peter was lying prone on the floor, Wade beside him and holding his hand. “Ah, oh, awoo,” groaned the prone chibi.

“Wade,” remarked the other. He looked up at Gwen, clear tears in his big blue eyes as he said firmly, “Wade, wade wade.”

“Woo,” whispered Peter before allowing his head to fall back to the floor, dropping limply.

“Waade,” groaned Wade. He pointed to the little shop that Gwen had made for him. “Wade,” he said heart-wrenchingly. “Wade wade wade.” He mimed painting with the hand that wasn’t holding Peter’s. “Wade wade wade wade,” he added, a slight quiver to his voice.

Peter’s head rolled to the side towards Gwen and an eye cracked slightly open.

Gwen bit the corners of her mouth. She would not laugh. She would not laugh. Laughter would only encourage.

Wade released Peter’s hand and flung the back of his own against his forehead. “Waade,” he sighed before collapsing on the floor next to Peter.

Gwen laughed. As she laughed both chibis jumped up and looked at her with wide eyes. “Wade?” asked the taller one.

Peter got down to one knee, clasped his hands together, and did that strange thing he did where made his eyes suddenly look huge. “Awee?” he asked.

Gwen was still laughing. “Yeah,” she said with a grin. She turned and left the room, going back into the main part of the house (closing the door behind her this time) and going to the cupboard where she’d stashed the finger paints.

Ian, snacking on some cookies, watched as she opened the cabinet. “What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“The chibis put on a play to get their paints back,” Gwen explained as she pulled down the little pots of paint. Well, little for her. Each pot was easily as big as a chibi’s torso.

“And?” Ian was clearly more interested in the cookies.

“And they’re getting the finger paints back,” Gwen admitted as she put them into her bag.

“What? What happened to your pride? Your dignity?” demanded Ian in a shocked tone.

Gwen snorted. “What dignity?” she quipped as she head back to her room. She paused at the threshold of the kitchen. “And Ian,” she said carefully.

Her little brother rolled his eyes making him look like Gwen herself. “Don’t talk like this to adults outside of the house,” he recited wearily.

She grinned. “Good boy. Have another cookie,” she suggested as he snorted. She went to her room. Both chibis stood at the edge of the dresser, watching her with wide eyes. As soon as he saw her Peter did that strange thing where he made his eyes look even bigger. “How do you even _do_ that?” she asked the little chibi.

He tilted his head to the side. “Awoo?” he asked, somehow making his eyes look even bigger as he blinked slowly.

Gwen chuckled. “All right,” she said pulling the paints out of her bag.

“Wade!”

“Not yet,” she told the scarred chibi making grabby hands at the paints. He scowled at her. “No, listen. I have some rules,” she said firmly as she put the still closed pots down on the desk, moved the studio, and laid down some newspaper before putting the studio back down—but far in the corner. She had a feeling that her new thing was going to take up more room. She pulled the sketchbook out of her bag and laid it on the dresser, opening it for them. Wade’s eyes went almost as huge as Peter’s as looked at the huge, blank canvas in front of him.

“Waade,” he breathed.

“Yup. I think I made your previous canvas too small—so here’s a human sized book for you to work with.”

“Wade!”

“And you are _not_ to do _anything_ with my schoolwork or schoolbooks again,” Gwen said firmly.

“Wade!” Wade nodded so quickly that she was afraid his neck might snap from the force. She opened the paint pots and laid them out on the dresser next to the sketchbook. “WADE!” roared the chibi as he dunked one hand in the blue and the other in the red.

Gwen fiddled with the camera, trying to find the best settings as she saw the two chibis get to work as they began finger painting. She knew better than to get anything on film about Peter’s unique abilities, but surely painting was just harmless? Well, she’d get the pictures first and then check chibi videos online. She could always just not post the things.

She got some cute pictures of the two playing with the paint and a short video of Peter painting Wade’s nose red before Wade gave Peter blue stripes on his face and the two collapsed into giggles. She plugged the camera into her computer and downloaded the files before uploading them on the town’s website. Eddie (also in charge of the town website) had thoughtfully created a page for “mascot candidates.”

Then, mentally scolding herself for doing things out of order, she looked up videos of chibis posted by proud parents. And while the majority of the videos were cute, she couldn't help but feel how –stupid the other chibis were. No, that wasn’t right. When Peter and Wade interacted, she could see intelligence in it; Hell, Peter had even _scolded_ Wade. But this—this was different. She wasn’t exactly certain what she was seeing that gave her that feeling.

A knock on the door burst her out of her thoughts. “Gwen, it’s time for dinner!” her mother called.

“Coming!” Gwen got up just as her phone vibrated in her pocket. Pulling the thing out she flipped it open and grinned at the text message with a time and address. She closed it again and slipped it back in her pocket before heading out.

Harry sat at the table, groggily staring at an empty plate as Gwen’s mother and Mary Jane’s father loaded the table with food. “How are you feeling?” Gwen asked him as she took the seat next to him.

“Groggy,” Harry answered with complete honesty. “Confused. How did I get here?” He rubbed his pale, freckled cheek absently.

“How much do you remember?” Gwen asked warily.

“I was at the hotel,” Harry said slowly, “and I was feeling bad, so I took my medicine. Then I woke up here.” He looked up and quickly nodded, “It’s really nice here; I’m just confused.”

Gwen frowned as she wondered where that over-protective driver of his had been while all of this had happened. Downtown was _not_ the best paved place in the world; he easily could have stumbled and hurt himself. Or, given the current climate of fear after the attack at school, he could have been attacked. Ambushed. Hurt. “Where was your driver?” she demanded.

“Huh? Oh—I think he went to the lobby? Or something?” Harry sounded confused.

Of course he was. As far as he was concerned he went to bed in one place and woke up in a completely different one. In his shoes, she’d be confused too. Gwen shared a look with mother over the table as they began to pass around food. “Do you sleepwalk often on your medication?” Gwen’s mother asked as Gwen made sure Harry had food on his plate. There wasn’t a lot that couldn't be helped with food; and Harry, despite being a rich boy, didn’t have nearly enough meat on his bones.

“…maybe?” Harry said uncertainly.

“Do you regularly wake up in strange places after taking your medicine?” Gwen asked.

Harry frowned. “Sometimes,” he admitted. He squirmed as if he was uncomfortable.

Mary Jane, sensing his discomfort, changed the subject. “Is there something you don’t like?” she asked anxiously.

Harry looked at the food that Gwen had piled on his plate as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh!” he said. He sounded—surprisingly touched. Information that Gwen filed away. “Oh, no, this looks very good,” he said quickly. He grabbed his fork and knife and—with perfect posture and manners—cut a bite to eat off his meatloaf.

“It’s like eating with James Bond,” Ian said in awe. Harry looked up, startled.

“More like Borne,” Gwen quipped giving Harry a gentle nudge with her elbow. “As in, Osborn,” she continued with a wink. She preened a little at the way Harry choked on a laugh before turning her attention to her mother. “By the way, the group’s run into trouble with the project we’ve got going for the Treaty Ceremony.”

“Oh?’ asked Mary Jane’s dad as he looked up. “What are you doing?” he asked with slight suspicion.

Gwen rolled her eyes. “You _know_ it’s supposed to be a secret,” she told him.

Gwen’s mother, who knew very well that Gwen hadn’t even known the plans for the Treaty Ceremony had been given the green light, frowned at her daughter. “Gwen,” she said warningly.

Gwen’s hands shot up into the air and she grinned. “I know it’s a school night,” she said. She met her mother’s eyes over the table. “And I’ll be careful,” she added.

Gwen’s mother, not unlike her father, snorted with amusement. “You had better be,” she warned her daughter. She moved to Harry. “After dinner,” she told the boy, “I would like you to call your driver here. I have a few things I’d like to say to him.”

“Ooo,” crooned Ian mischievously. “ _Somebody’s_ in trouble!” he sang.

“Not you,” Gwen quickly stated as Harry looked shocked. “I’ll leave after dinner,” she announced.

Once dinner was done she, along with Mary Jane and Ian, helped clean up the mess from dinner and then she was out the door heading to the address she’d gotten a text of. Of course, it was in the warehouse sector of the nearby city. Couldn’t possibly be anywhere nearby, nope.

She parked her car out of the way and went over to the address, getting the camera ready. She made sure her distinctive hair was hidden under her cap before she went to spy on the men moving product out in the middle of the night. Good sign; not many _respectable_ companies worked this time of night. She pulled out the camera and zoomed in—only to freeze at the sight of a familiar silver logo. There was only one group that used that silver, stylized man.

_The Iron Man_ . Iron Man—famous for the weapons he created, sold, and distributed behind the scenes of his supposedly up and up chain of restaraunts. Famous for being a five-star chef despite the fact that both of his arms were prosthetic, designed none other than Tony Stark, the one and only Iron Man, himself. Famous for the ruthless ways he dealt with his enemies.

Famous for his complete and utter rejection of all drugs, to the point where he’d had  _no_ anesthesia of any kind for surgery since he became an adult and was able to refuse it.

Gwen wasn’t stupid. The whole rejection of drugs  _could_ be an act. A facade to turn away those who would be looking—but Gwen had resources that the general public didn’t. She had information they didn’t. She honestly believed that Iron Man hated drugs as much as he said he did.

He was not the culprit she was seeking. She sighed and turned off the camera before leaving. She was going to have to tell Eddie that he’d gotten his info crossed and warn him away from whatever little birdie whispered that tidbit of info into his ear. Messing with Iron Man was a short path to a deep grave—and since he wasn’t threatening her home, school, or family, she had no reason to take the risk.

Two hands shot out of the dark and grabbed her, holding her nose and mouth shut just long enough to make her pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger. I had to stop somewhere and this seemed a good place. 
> 
> Forgive me?


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony meets someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to get out. This chapter did not want to be written.

Tony stared at the little blonde tied to a chair in front of him. She was a puzzle. He didn’t do well with puzzles; he tended to poke at them until they stopped moving.

The deal tonight was top secret. The only people who were supposed to know anything about it on their end were Pepper, Natasha, and, of course, Tony himself. On the other end there was only supposed to be one person who knew the where of the deal—and that was the guy who was supposed to drop off the money for the items.

The girl’s breathing was steady, but shallow. He didn’t know enough about medicine to know if that was a good thing or not, but Natasha had informed him that it was perfectly normal for someone who’d been suffocated into unconsciousness. He’d replied that his ban on drugs didn’t include  using them in an incapacitating manner and she’d told him to leave the bodyguard duties to her and stick to making his weapons and lasagna. 

The girl had been there. She hadn’t just been there, she’d been in a prime position for shooting (pictures  _or_ bullets). She’d had a camera.

She hadn’t taken a picture. No, correction; she hadn’t taken a picture of  _them_ . The camera was positively filled with pictures of little humanoid creatures research had told were called chibis. She had two. They loved finger painting, for some strange reason.

So what had a girl, who appeared to be wholesome and have a normal level obsession with her pets, been doing in an old, almost abandoned building in perfect vantage point of one of his deals?

There was an odd, muffled groan, like the girl was in pain and trying to hide it.  Tony frowned; there was no way she could know, yet, where she was. He remembered being suffocated into unconsciousness; it took a little time to remember what happened and a little more to process being in trouble. That meant, this girl—whomever she was—was familiar with automatically hiding her pain.

He was already starting to like her, puzzle that she was.

She opened her eyes blearily and blinked slowly as the world around her came into focus before shifting her attention to Tony. “Hi,” she said calmly.

Tony smiled. Whatever else this kid had, she definitely had spunk. “ Hi,” he echoed as he leaned against the wall. “Do you know who I am?”

“Tony Stark. Also known as Iron Man, both the supplier of freakishly awesome and powerful weapons and a five star chef who specializes in Italian food. Mom took me to your restaurant for my birthday dinner.” The voice was calm and steady. The gaze was—not quite focused, but that was to be expected. Natasha was a pro.

“And you’re the errant photographer,” Tony said, amused.

She snorted. “No,” she countered, “I’m tied to a chair.” She gave him a grin that rivaled his own. “But I can see how you got confused.”

Oh, he liked this girl. He wanted to rev her up, give her his latest toys, and set her loose on the world to see what she did. Would she be a hero? Would she be a villain? He couldn’t wait to find out.

Patience. As his mother once told him, take one step at a time. “So,  Tied To A Chair,” he asked, “what were you doing down by those warehouses?” He shook his head. “Not very safe at that time of night.”

“I was hunting crime,” the girl said brazenly.

He paused. She didn’t  _seem_ suicidal—but he’d made bad calls before. “Oh?” he asked. He pushed away from the wall and walked over to the small table the camera was sitting on. “Seems kind of strange to go hunting crime and not taking pictures of it,” he said calmly as he fiddled with it.

She rolled her eyes. The girl, kidnapped and tied to a chair while at the mercy of her captors  _rolled her eyes_ . Tony wanted to adopt her. Could he? No, she probably had parents. Pity.

“Okay,” the girl said, breaking into Tony’s thoughts. “I wasn’t hunting _your_ crime. I got a bad tip, and I knew that as soon as I saw the Iron Man logo on the crates.”

Tony couldn't control the rise of his eyebrow at  _that_ tantalizing information. “I see,” he said calmly as he set the camera down. He expected a sigh of relief; it was a fairly good camera. He got nothing. Either she was the world’s best actress, or she wasn’t invested in the camera, meaning—he had no clue what that meant. That’s what Pepper was for. “What kind of crime were you hunting for?” he asked.

“The kind that sells drugs to high schoolers,” the girl said.

He gave a low whistle. “That’s a dangerous road to walk,” he said thoughtfully.

“They came to my school.” The cold, raw fury in her voice sent shivers down Tony’s spine, and he looked at the child with new respect.

“You going to go after every student who decides to pop a pill?” he bantered.

The fury in the girl’s eyes went nowhere as she spoke. “If someone decides to go out, party and get wasted, well, that’s not my problem.” Her eyes managed to pin him, despite the fact that he wasn’t the one tied to a chair. “If they decide to try and break the rules by doping up to make their performances better, well, that’s none of my concern.” She leaned forward as far as the ropes would allow and growled. “But when a dealer comes to  _my_ school, taunts  _my_ classmates, and gets them popping his highly addictive, serial killer making drugs?  _That’s_ my problem.”

Tony quickly revised his opinion of the little terrier in front of him. Fiercely territorial, she didn’t care how dangerous something was—but she wasn’t going to go  _outside_ of her territory. That was actually a good thing. He could work with that. “So—what drug are you talking about.”

The suicidal little terrier replied without hesitation. “Triple S.”

Tony felt an icy fist of fear clench in his chest as he had a brief memory of one of his friends, his  _best_ friend laughing—before the drug. Before the change. “ That’s an even more dangerous road to walk,” he said as calmly as possible. “Thanos isn’t kind to intruders.”

He could  _feel_ the girl seize on the name as she smiled. Now she had a name. “Neither am I,” she said pertly.

“I’d like to help you,” he confessed, “but I’m afraid of that pert little attitude being turned against me. Why, what would happen if one of your fellow students decided to take one of my…toys for a test drive at your school?”

“Then the hacker I know would let me know what’s about to go down and I’d tell the school archer to take him down before school started before anyone else knew what was happening like the last time some idiot tried,” the girl responded calmly.

Tony grinned. “Manipulative  _and_ protective. Student Council?”

“Yearbook committee.”

The two stared at each other for a moment. Tony smiled again. “Well,” he admitted, “I have my own problems with Thanos.” Namely, two of them. “I think we might be able to help each other out— _if_ you tell me who gave you the bad tip.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I think,” she said firmly, “that  _I’ll_ find out who gave the bad tip, and pass it along.”

Tony felt his lips twitch in a smile. “Let me guess. A friend of a friend?”

Fierce blue eyes calmly met his own. “A friend of one of  _mine_ ,” she stated without hesitation.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's driver gets lectured and Gwen returns home.

Harry couldn't believe he was in the position of watching someone—someone who was _not_ Norman—yell at his driver(babysitter). He wasn’t entirely certain how it had happened—he’d been in the hotel, taken his medicine, fallen asleep…and then he woke up at Gwen’s house. Had dinner with her family. And now, her mother was yelling at his driver.

Harry supposed that he _should_ intervene, should say something, anything to protect the man—but he didn’t really have much sympathy for a man who was clearly Norman’s spy. Besides, it was nice hearing _someone else_ get into trouble for a change. Most of the yelling he heard had to do with how he’d failed at some impossible task that Norman had set him.

“—stumbling down the street, anything could have happened to him,” ranted Gwen’s mother. Her arms were crossed and she glared down at the man sitting on her couch in stunned horror as Harry watched—from a recliner with a throw strategically placed over his lap. Gwen’s mother had been very insistent before she’d allowed the driver into the house.

“I—” began the man.

“You,” snarled Gwen’s mother, “are lucky he ran into my daughter! Do you have any idea what could have happened to him if someone else had found him? Someone who _didn’t_ care about his well-being?”

“I—” the driver tried again.

“You,” said Gwen’s mother firmly, “are going to go to that hotel, get his things, and bring them here. Harry will stay with us while he’s in Elfin Grove.”

The driver stared at her. So did Harry. He was staying—here? With Gwen’s family?

“Mr. Osborn will not like this,” the driver warned and Harry winced. He could just imagine how badly Norman “wouldn’t like it.”

Gwen’s mother looked down her nose at the man. “Mr. Osborn,” the woman said with the same sickly sweet, poisoned tone her daughter had used on the driver earlier, “can come here himself and tell me. Now,” the woman said reverting to her normal tone and pointing at the front door. “Go. And if you do not go _straight_ to the hotel and _straight_ back here, so help me—” The driver scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door.

Gwen’s mother watched him go before pulling a phone from her pocket. “Hello, Charlie? Yes, a car just left my property. No, just follow. He’s supposed to be doing something and I don’t want him deviating. What? Oh, don’t bother being subtle. Sure, hon, have fun.” The woman hung up and pocketed the phone before turning to Harry. “Any objections?” she asked.

“No, Ma’am,” Harry said politely.

The formidable woman smiled. “You’re a good boy,” she approved. “Don’t worry Harry, you’re safe here. We won’t let anything bad happen to you.” She turned and went to the kitchen.

“Hello.” Harry turned to see that Gwen’s little brother, Ian, he thought the kid was named, was watching him. Ian looked at Harry with an odd frown on his little kid face.

“Hello,” Harry returned. He didn’t know much about children; he didn’t know many. Actually, he didn’t know _any_ children—the staff made sure any floors that Harry was on were child free on Bring-Your-Kid-To-Work Day.

“So—do you count as a kid, or an adult?” the child asked.

That was an odd question. “I’m not sure?” he offered.

The kid processed this information. “Are you like Gwen and Mary Jane?” he asked. “Because, they’re between kid and adult.”

“I think so?” Harry couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why this was important.

The kid’s face smoothed into one of satisfaction. “Excellent,” the boy said. “Mom! I’m going to check on the chibis!” he called.

“You are _not_ going anywhere near that dangerous little monster!” The mother came back into the living room and scowled at her son.

Harry blinked in confusion. A chibi? Dangerous? Was that possible?

“But Harry’s an expert on chibis, and he’ll ge there with me!” Ian pleaded.

Harry wasn’t certain at what point in the conversation he’d agreed to go into a girl’s room (a girl he didn’t even know particularly well) with a boy (he knew even less), but they’d agreed to let him stay so when the woman turned her gaze to Harry he nodded.

“Good. That one chibi needs—something,” she waved a hand dismissively before heading back into the kitchen.

The woman frowned. “All right,” she conceded, “but only if you take Mary Jane with you.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “But, Mom,” he whined.

“No. Mary Jane!” the woman called and a redheaded teen, about Harry’s and Gwen’s age, came down the hall. “Escort your brother and Harry to the demon.”

“He’s just a chibi Mom,” Mary Jane replied calmly.

“And the gerbils were evil!” added Ian helpfully.

“They. Were. Gerbils. ‘Evil’ implies they had intent,” the woman said firmly before leaving the room.

Mary Jane giggled as Harry folded the throw before following the two to Gwen’s room. Ian reached for the door and Harry, his brain suddenly kicking in with flashbacks of the last time he entered that room, reached out and grabbed the boy’s shoulder to stop him. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked. The two of them stared at him. “I mean,” he clarified, “do we need a shield or something?”

Ian simply pat Harry’s hand. “Don’t worry,” he said calmly, “Gwen gave them back the paints.”

“It’s really cute how much they adore each other,” Mary Jane said as Ian forced the door open. He followed the two of them inside and stared at the top of the dresser. There was an odd hammock like thing strung between the two buildings on it, and the scarred chibi was calmly laying in the hammock as the other gently pushed and crooned wordlessly. On the dresser in front of the smaller of the two buildings was an open sketchbook, the page covered in paint.

“Awesome!” Ian said as he used his phone to take a picture of the scene—then got closer to take a picture of the painting.

Harry stared at the painting. It was a group of small flowers under a giant yellow flower and surrounded by purple flowers. The small flowers didn’t have much detail, and neither did the giant yellow flower. However the purple flowers, with their eight petals and distinctly stylized design, were picked out in careful detail that somehow made the simple flowers look ominous. There was also something familiar about them…

His attention was drawn by a series of light taps on the window and he shifted his attention to it—only to stare at Gwen, on the other side of the glass. Ian calmly wandered over and unlocked the window allowing it to slide up a solid two inches of its own accord.

“Through the window, Gwen?” asked Ian.

Harry got the impression this wasn’t a new thing.

“Oh, come off it,” grunted Gwen as she pushed the window open and swung inside. “I’ll come in through the front door in a minute. I just need to make an unmonitored phone call.”

“A what?” asked Mary Jane.

Gwen flapped a hand at the other teen, shutting her up and glanced at Harry. “Nice to see you up and around. You look better,” she commented as she grabbed a landline handset from the desk and dialed a number without even looking.

“You saw me at dinner,” was all Harry could think to say to the human hurricane in front of him.

“Yeah, but you were still—Eddie! Hi, guess who? Yeah, listen; ya know the little tip you gave me? That lovely address? Yeah. I’m gonna need your little birdie’s name dude.” Harry could hear someone talking to her through the phone and she sighed. “Look,” Gwen said cutting the other person, this “Eddie” off, “your tipster tried to get you killed. They sent you to an Iron Man deal.”

Harry stilled. Even he’d heard of the infamous Iron Man. Five star gourmet chef with a focus on Italian cuisine with a side of weapons and murder. Everyone knew about his criminal dealings—but n one could prove it. He stared at Gwen with horror.

Gwen, who merely rolled her eyes at something she heard on the other end of the line. “Of course not,” she said. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. “I’m not being held captive in an empty warehouse,” she said. Something about the tone made Harry look at her sharply, and he noticed that Mary Jane was looking at her the same way as Ian took over gently rocking the scarred chibi in the hammock. “I’m calling you from my room at home,” Gwen added with perfect honesty. “Yeah. Thanks Eddie. Good luck with your new job.” She hung up the phone and placed it back on its cradle. “He said he’s going to quit being a reporter and be a cattle rancher instead,” Gwen informed them.

“Good for him,” Mary Jane approved.

“Do they make cows that don’t kick?” asked Ian from playing with the chibis. The one that had been rocking the hammock had gripped one of Ian’s fingers and was swinging it gently from side to side as he let out a musical warble.

Gwen snickered and let herself back out of the window again. Ian reached over, closed the window, and locked it without ever taking his hand away from the chibi he was playing with.

Mary Jane gave Harry a small smile. “You get used to it,” she told him.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen goes home with Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Lot of stuff going on, and recovering from a cold. Blah.

Gwen watched Tony as the driver took them to her house. She would have felt wary about letting a known (even if it couldn't be proven) criminal know where she lived—but he already knew. She was certain that he’d gone through all of her things when she’d been captured. It’s what she would have done in his position.

“So, shortstack,” Tony said as he lounged into the comfortable fabric of the limo seats, “you got any ideas how to explain our new—partnership?”

Gwen smiled. “Of course,” she said. “After all, Iron Man is well known for his reusable resource kitchen appliances.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow at her. She’d love to know how he did that. “Is that right?” he asked.

Gwen shrugged. “My stepfather has every magazine that even hints to it. He’s been trying to rebuild your reactor in our shop.” He’d never succeed, of course. Even Gwen knew that the most pertinent information, the key to making the whole thing work, wasn’t anywhere in any public article. Tony was many things—but stupid wasn’t one of them and he wasn’t about to _give_ a secret that was making him millions. “The only appliances Mom buys for the kitchen are Stark brand,” Gwen added. Tony smirked. “So—we met when your car stalled in the middle of nowhere.”

“And your family will buy that?” asked Tony.

“My stepfather will,” Gwen said confidently.

“And your mother?”

“My mother trusts my judgment. If I tell her you’re helping me with something and I can handle it, she will expect me to handle it.”

Tony’s eyebrow not only manages to stay up, but somehow takes on a sardonic tone all by itself. “That seems—unusual.”

“Mom trusts me to make my own choices and take responsibility for my actions,” Gwen commented calmly.

The eyebrow came down as Tony frowned. “You,” he said firmly, “are not an adult.”

“But I _am_ responsible,” Gwen said firmly. Something occurred to her. “Oh—you’ll also have to meet the chibis.”

“Chibis?” asked Tony.

“I took the last person I brought home to meet them so it will look odd if I don’t take _you_ to meet them,” Gwen informed him.

“What is a chibi?” asked Tony in confusion.

Gwen smiled. “You’ll see,” she said vaguely. She chuckled at the thought of Tony with a chibi. “You might even decide to get one,” she added with a grin.

The limo pulled to a stop and she smiled. “All right; before we do this I need to go in and call my contact for the tipster’s name,” she told him.

Tony smiled and pulled a phone, glowing a soft blue, out of the breast pocket of his dress jacket. “Here, you can use mine,” he said slyly.

Gwen tried to cock her own eyebrow. She didn’t have a mirror, but she didn’t think that she had succeeded. “You mean,” she drawled, “so you can trace the number and find my contact?” Her grin widened at the muffled snort from the driver’s seat. It sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “Thanks, but I can handle it,” she said. She went to open the door. It didn’t move.

Tony’s eyebrow raised, once again, sardonically. “You sure about that?” he asked.

Gwen simply rolled down the window and climbed out before tossing him a salute. “Perfectly,” she purred before heading towards her window, grateful that the house was only a single story. She saw Harry, Mary Jane, and Ian in her room, and she knocked (lightly) on the window. Ian let her in.

“Through the window Gwen?” he asked.

Gwen rolled her eyes. He was such a stickler for the rules it was hard to see why he was friends with the chaos of his class. “Oh, come off it,” grunted Gwen as she pushed the window open and swung inside. “I’ll come in through the front door in a minute. I just need to make an unmonitored phone call.” And wouldn't Tony _love_ to hear that conversation.

“A what?” asked Mary Jane. She sounded confused and more normal confused and less the tentative person she’d been since the revelation that Gwen resented her ability to look perfect with minimum effort.

Gwen flapped a dismissive hand towards her before turning towards Harry. He wasn’t nearly as pale as he’d been at dinner and his eyes were steady instead of distanced and slightly glassy. “Nice to see you up and around. You look better,” she commented as she grabbed a landline handset from the desk and dialed a number without even looking. She knew the number by heart.

“You saw me at dinner,” Harry protested with a slight frown. Aw. He got a little wrinkle right between his eyebrows when he frowned. It was adorable.

“Yeah, but you were still—Eddie! Hi, guess who? Yeah, listen; ya know the little tip you gave me? That lovely address? Yeah. I’m gonna need your little birdie’s name dude.”

“I don’t give out names, Gwen,” Eddie sighed into the phone. “Besides, you—”

“Look,” Gwen said cutting Eddie off before he could get started on a list of ethics and why Gwen should focus more on school, “your tipster tried to get you killed. They sent you to an Iron Man deal.”

“They WHAT?! Are you okay? No, stupid question, of course you’re not okay. Where did you escape from? What’s around you? God, you’re not tied up are you? Is Iron Man threatening to kill you? Is he going to kill _me_? I’m moving to Montana! Cattle ranching has got to be easier than dealing with you!”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Of course not. I’m not being held captive at an empty warehouse.” Not anymore, at any rate. Tony had been easy to deal with once she explained she didn’t give a crap about _his_ operations. “I’m calling you from my room at home,” Gwen added with perfect honesty. “Yeah. Thanks Eddie. Good luck with your new job.” She looked at the avid eavesdropers and added, “He said he’s going to quit his job and become a cattle rancher instead.”

Mary Jane smiled blandly. “Good for him,” she said. Gwen grinned; clearly her stepsister knew that Eddie wouldn't be moving anytime soon.

“Do they make cows that don’t kick?” asked Ian, probably remembering the incident when Eddie had covered the Pony Troupe that went to the elementary school and got stampeded, cornered, and kicked by the “placid” ponies as the teachers tried to save him and the children (notably Calvin) cheered the tiny horses on.

Gwen snickered at the memory before climbing back out the window and to the car, where she opened to the door for Tony. “Ready to meet my family?” she asked him.

Tony straightened his tie. “I,” he informed her haughtily, “am always ready for anything.”

Gwen smirked right back at him. “We’ll see,” she told him before leading him to the front door and, as per protocol when someone brought over a new guest (that they weren’t carrying) knocked on it. Her mother opened the door and Gwen stepped slightly to the side. “Mom,” she said, “this is Tony Stark.”

Tony took one of her mother’s hands and lightly kissed the back of it. “The pleasure,” he said warmly every inch the successful host, “is all mine, I assure you.”

Gwen’s mother shot her a dirty look, and Gwen knew the two of them were going to have _words_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you see any mistakes. I can't fix a problem I don't know about.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony meets Gwen's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive!
> 
> Sorry guys, I'm trying work on three at the same time (one for Spideypool Big Bang) and everything's all messed up at the moment. Forgive me?

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Gwen’s mother fumed. Her voice was in that in that stage between a whisper and a yell. Gwen knew that it wouldn't take much for her to break into a true yell.

“I do,” Gwen replied confidently. Then she sighed. “No, not really,” she confessed. “I’m winging it.”

“I don’t know what you were doing,” Gwen’s mother said in a firm tone that said she _would_ find out, “when you ran into Stark, but Gwen, this sounds like something your father should be handling!”

“This isn’t something Dad can handle!” hissed Gwen. She knew, better than most, the limitations of the law. Sure the law was there to protect peace and order—but there were a lot of restrictions on what officers could do.

“Gwen—”

“Listen,” said Gwen firmly, urgently. “I’m a minor. I get caught and the worst that can happen is a slap on the wrist for trespassing.”

“The worst that can happen is you dying!” hissed her mother. The woman pressed the heels of her wrists into her eyes and stayed like that for a moment. “No wonder your father is balding,” she said weakly.

Gwen reached out and gave her mother a gentle pat on the arm. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m being careful.”

Yeah. Gwen was willing to admit she deserved the laughter just as much this time as she had the first one. “All right,” she admitted when the laughter began to edge into hysteria. “But—I’m _trying_ to be careful.”

Her mother’s perfectly manicured hand, curved into a claw, reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “Gwen,” she said firmly, “from this moment on you will carry that piece of shit flip phone every fucking where you go. It. Will. Not. Leave. Your. Side. The moment, the exact _moment_ the thought crosses your mind that you _might_ , possibly be in a little over your head you. Will. Call. For. Help. Understood?”

In the kitchen she heard her stepfather telling Tony that he was missing an entire spectrum of the market by not adapting his technologically enhanced engines for power tools. Tony seemed alarmingly enchanted with the idea. Gwen wondered if she needed to intervene—but nah. It was none of her business, after all.

“Understood,” she assured her mother. Her mother blinked, sighed, and turned to go into the kitchen. “Mr. Stark,” her mother said warmly as Gwen trailed after her.

Her arm was caught and she turned to look into Harry’s wide eyes. “Stark?” he demanded. “As in, Tony Stark?”

Gwen grinned. “The same.”

Harry groaned and put his head in his hands. “Gwen,” he groaned, “my dad _hates_ Stark.”

“Harry,” Gwen said soothingly, “in the eyes of the law you’re an adult. You can tell your father to go fuck himself for all the law cares.”

Harry jerked his head up as he stared at Gwen. Then he gave a little breathless laugh. “You don’t know my father,” he said softly.

“Cheer up,” Gwen said with a smile as she pat his shoulder. “Your father doesn’t know me, either.” Her grin took on a decidedly predatory look. “Yet.” She regarded the young man in front of her. “You,” she decided, “need to get out more. Actually socialize with your age group.”

Mary Jane came up behind him in the hall. “Maybe,” the girl said thoughtfully as she leaned against the wall, “you should go to Sister’s this Friday.” She gave a shy smile. “Who knows?” she asked softly. “If you go, maybe Gwen will ditch her homework one Friday night and actually go out and socialize.”

“I socialize!” protested Gwen. Had Mary Jane forgotten that it was only Gwen’s socialization that saved her the night of Homecoming?

“Over the phone does not count,” Mary Jane said firmly. Gwen rolled her eyes. She disagreed, obviously. Over the phones gave her the ability to keep tabs on proceedings without actually having to _interact_.

Harry chuckled softly as Mary Jane perked up at the sound of talking in the kitchen. “Who’s the guest?” she asked.

Gwen soothed Harry as he made a slightly strangled sound as Gwen cheerfully replied, “Tony Stark. You know, head chef of Iron Man, where Mom took us for my birthday dinner last year?”

Mary Jane gave a rueful sigh. “That lasagna is to _die_ for,” she mourned.

“The trick is the fresh noodles.” Both Mary Jane and Harry jumped as Tony appeared behind Gwen, smiling at the three teens. “And maybe the sauce,” Tony admitted. At the stunned looks on two of their faces he added, “I make it from scratch. Secret recipe taught by my Grandma Bella, may her withered old soul rest in piece.”

Gwen snickered. “Tony,” she said, taking malicious delight in shocking the others by using his first name only, “this is Mary Jane and Harry.”

He extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mary Jane and Harry.” Harry made an odd, choking noise as he shook Stark’s hand. Clearly Stark had no idea who Harry was. Gwen wasn’t about to enlighten him.

Mary Jane had no such reservations. She sighed. “Gwen, you need to use last names.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Mr. Stark,” Mary Jane continued, ignoring Gwen’s glare, “I’m Mary Jane Watson.”

His head tilted as he considered Mary Jane’s features. “Madeline Watson’s daughter?” he asked. Mary Jane’s smile faltered.

“We don’t speak that bitch’s name in this house,” Gwen primly informed him.

Mary Jane frowned. “Gwen,” she admonished.

“I said it, I’ll stand by it, and you _know_ I have no trouble insulting her to her face,” Gwen reminded her stepsister.

“I’m Harry Osborn,” Harry said extending his own hand.

Tony shook it, eyeing the young man thoughtfully. “Don’t take this wrong way, but I hate your father.”

Harry gave him a weak smile. “Me too,” he said gently.

“You’re blocking the bathroom,” an annoyed voice told them. Gwen turned to see her little brother Ian glaring at them.

“Tony, Ian. Ian, Tony,” Gwen introduced as she plastered herself against the wall so he could get by.

“Hi Tony,” Ian said as he headed past them. “Don’t forget to nerf the engines or you’ll just make the tools explode,” he observed on his way to the bathroom.

Tony stared after the small child and then pointed towards him with a look at Gwen. She shrugged. “We’re working on it,” she told him.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade and Peter get kidnapped and Gwen gets them back, making a new enemy in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and rewrote this chapter. I'm still not happy with it, but I decided to post it anyway and move on.

“And _I’m_ just saying you could have been _killed_ ,” hissed Emma as they walked.

Peter ran to the edge of the clear plastic travel case she’d gotten for him and Wade and made soothing noises to try and make her feel better. Wade simply yawned and settled in the soft, shredded material at the bottom. Material that, Gwen couldn't help but notice, hadn’t been shredded when she’d put it in there to line the bottom.

“I’m fine,” Gwen repeated to her friend.

“You are not fine,” hissed Emma. “You went to a spy on what you thought was a _drug meeting_ Gwen. With people who aren’t afraid to stroll up to the school in broad daylight! You are _sick_ and need _help_.”

Gwen rolled her eyes as they stopped for the crosswalk. “It all worked out. Ow!” she protested as Emma smacked her arm. “Watch it!”

“Me? _Me_?” demanded Emma. “ _I_ need to ‘watch it’? Gwen, I’m not the one trying to be Elfin Grove’s new puppeteer!”

They stopped at a crosswalk as Peter continued to make soothing noises. Hard to know if the chibi also felt that Gwen was stupid—but at least _he_ wasn’t lecturing her. “I am _not_ ,” she insisted to her friend. Emma simply gave her an unimpressed look. Gwen rolled her eyes. “So,” she said deliberately changing the subject, “you think Peter and Wade have a chance to be Town Mascot?”

Emma looked down at the small carrier where Peter was still trying to croon soothingly to her and Wade was toying with one of the strips of fabric that he had angrily ripped apart in front of the judges and the live camera feed. “I think you’ll be lucky if they don’t try to insist you put him down,” she told her friend bluntly.

“I _told_ them not to separate the two. It’s understandable that he panicked,” Gwen replied.

It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes. “Oh, that was panic? It looked more like a toddler rage tantrum to _me_.”

Considering that no one had been injured, Gwen was confident that Wade had held himself back. He hadn’t even attacked the judge who had put Peter _back_ in the cage—just draped himself over the smaller chibi as he cried. “I think it doesn’t matter,” she said after a moment. “I told them not to separate the two, they did, and now they know _why_ I said that.”

“You know, that’s not normal chibi behavior,” Emma pointed out.

Gwen, as a matter of fact, did know. Now. Harry was keeping an observation log of all of her chibis’ behaviors, and she felt certain that he’d watched the live online feed of the judging for more material.

She was a little scared to ask what he was learning from her babies.

“And has it occurred to you that maybe—” Emma began.

A man wearing a hoodie and surgical mask across his face ran into the two of them, pushing Emma down and yanking the carry cage out of Gwen’s hand as Peter screamed.

Wade _growled_ , a deep sound that sent a sliver a fear slicing through Gwen’s being just long enough for the man to get a head start on running. She took off after him ignoring traffic, ignoring calls, yells, shouts. She ran until he got into a van and she glared at the logo on the side before it roared off.

Brighton Laboratories. She’d recognize that logo anywhere. Now only one question remained: how was she going to get her chibi back?

Emma pounded up beside her. “Where’re the chibis?” she demanded.

“Come on,” Gwen said grimly as she led the other girl to the car and drove to Brighton Labs. It was a squat, two-story building with sweeping arches built into the doorways. The inside of the dark brick building was done in white. The employees wore white uniforms with a disturbingly familiar stylized flower on the pockets. “That’s an interesting flower,” Gwen commented to one woman hurrying down the hall as they entered the lobby.

“It’s a clematis,” the woman said with a smile. “They stand for ingenuity.” She rushed off.

Clematis. Also mean “artifice.” Gwen took a moment to wonder if the doctor who’d designated the stylized logos for the lab coats knew that as she followed Emma towards the desk. Emma seethed, raged, and railed at the receptionist about the stolen chibis.

The receptionist stayed calm, kept a bland smile on her face, and claimed she knew nothing about any chibis, much less ones that had been stolen. And, of course, none of them could have been stolen in a Brighton Laboratories panel van; _they_ were always either at Brighton or their mother lab. No, she couldn't tell them where the mother lab was. No, she didn’t _need_ to look at the pictures on Emma’s phone, because there were no chibis on the premises.

Gwen, having had far too much experience with well meaning human guard dogs working both reception and security, wasn’t paying much attention to the exchange. Instead, she was looking around for something she could exploit to get to the labs the public weren’t allowed to see. Of course they wouldn't keep the chibis _here_ ; if the public got wind they were experimenting on the highly beloved chibis it would be a political _nightmare_. Not to mention whatever Harry and his team would do to them.

A shadow caught her attention. Not because shadows were in any way odd or significant, but they did not normally travel perpendicular to the floor. And up. And halfway across the ceiling before coming to a stop.

Gwen put a calming hand on Emma’s shoulder and gave the receptionist a gentle smile. “What you’re saying,” she purred gently knowing she was about to twist this woman’s words, “is that there are no chibis in Brighton Labs and if there are the labs had nothing to do with them getting here, do not have any claim on the chibis, and can not explain how their arrival happened.”

The woman smiled brightly at Gwen, confident she knew how this was going to end. The foolish woman. “Of course,” she said.

Gwen took a step back from the desk, putting her squarely under the shadow she’d seen before she called out, “Did you hear that? It’s okay to come down; you’re safe now. I can take you home.”

The shadow detached from the ceiling and slowly, traveling down a thin, almost invisible line, dropped to where Gwen was. Silence reigned in the lobby as Gwen held out her hands to catch the two chibis that had, somehow, managed to paint themselves black. “There you are,” she crooned soothingly to them as Wade began to howl and Peter began to sob. She carefully used her shirt to clean the dirt off their faces as she noticed that, somehow, the chibis had lost their clothes. She contained her rage at that. This wasn’t the time for an angry outburst. Anger would be detrimental to her cause.

One of the civilians in the lobby pointed at the chibis in her hand. “Hey!” he yelled, startled and with wide eyes. “That’s Peter and Wade!”

“No!”

“Those bastards stole the town mascots!”

“What are they _thinking_?”

The receptionist’s eyes went wide as she stared at the rapidly angering crowd around the two teens in her lobby. “I,” Gwen said with malicious sweetness, “suggest you send someone to round up their clothes and carrier before things—get out of hand.” She met the woman’s frightened eyes with her own.

The people in this lab were going to learn why it was a bad idea to mess with Gwen.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen makes a plan.

The two chibis refused to get back in the carrier (not that Gwen could blame them), so Gwen held them as Emma drove them back to Gwen’s house. “The nerve!” growled Emma as she accelerated a tad too fast through the intersection.

Gwen focused on the chibis in her lap. She usually focused on anything other than the driving when Emma was behind the wheel anyway, but this time she had something she specifically wanted to do. “There are other chibis there, aren’t there?” she asked her two.

Emma shot her an incredulous glance, but Gwen ignored it. Peter leaned back, caught Gwen’s eyes with his own, and firmly nodded.

Gwen reached out and braced herself as the car suddenly drifted over a lane and had to swerve back into the right one. “If you’re going to do that, pull over,” Gwen ordered her friend firmly. “Save Driving is important,” she added.

Emma, slightly paler (although her complexion wouldn't allow her to go too much paler), pulled off the road into a parking lot and brought the car to a complete stop before cracking the windows and turning it off. As an added measure she pulled the keys out of the ignition and turned to stare at the chibis in Gwen’s lap. Peter gave her a nervous wave. She took a deep breath and braced her head against the steering wheel.

Gwen ignored her. “How many?” Gwen asked Peter. The chibi held up a hand, fingers outstretched, and then clenched it into a fist before opening and closing it again. “Fifteen?” Gwen guessed. Peter nodded.

“Woo,” Peter said softly. He rubbed Wade’s back and looked up, worried, at Gwen.

“Don’t worry.”

“No.” Gwen looked at Emma. “No, no, and no. No! I know that tone of voice! No!”

Using her free hand Gwen gestured towards the still frightened chibis in her lap. Emma made the mistake of looking at them before shifting her gaze out the window while she bit her lip. “Can you really leave chibis to be hurt?” Gwen softly asked her friend. Then, knowing how powerful the next words were, she added, “They have no one else to turn to.”

A gasp hitched Emma’s throat as she stared out the window for a moment while her hands clenched the steering wheel. She took a deep, shaky breath as she restarted the car. “You had better have a plan,” she told Gwen firmly.

“Do you know where Carmelita lives?” Gwen asked.

Emma pulled the car back into the road. “You,” she spat, “are insane.”

“Maybe,” agreed Gwen.

Wade tugged at her shirt and looked up pitifully. “Wade?” he asked, eyes wide and bright with tears.

“Don’t worry,” Gwen reassured the little chibi, gently rubbing his head with her free hand. “Everything will be all right.”

“Owoo!” Peter cried as he wiggled between Wade and Gwen, wrapping both arms and legs around his fellow chibi before smacking a loud kiss to the scarred chibi’s cheek.

“You are _not_ helping!” growled Emma.

“You’re so cute it’s distracting,” Gwen translated. Peter slammed both hands to his mouth and his eyes went wide as Wade cuddled against the other chibi.

“I can’t believe this,” Emma chanted as they pulled into the neighborhood that Carmelita lived in.

“Believe it,” Gwen said as she looked at the perfectly manicured yards. If Calvin had been raised in _this_ neighborhood—the neighbors would probably have banded together to get the family kicked out and Ian wouldn't have his best friend.

Carmelita’s father was the one who answered the door. He was dressed in khaki slacks and a dark blue polo shirt. His face broke out into a smile when he saw Gwen and Emma. “Hello, girls,” he said warmly in a soft voice. The man always spoke in a soft voice, as though he was afraid he was going to frighten people if he didn’t.

“Hello, Mr. Comacho,” Gwen replied. Her mother had raised her to be polite, among other things.

“Is Carmelita here?” asked Emma.

“She is.” Mr. Comacho looked between the two girls, clearly confused. He knew they didn’t run in the same social circles at school.

“She’s been helping us with the town mascot project,” not that the girl had _intended_ to, “and we wanted to let her know the results,” Gwen explained.

The man’s face broke into another smile. “That’s wonderful,” he enthused softly. “Please, come in.”

“Thank you, Mr. Comacho.” Both Gwen and Emma walked in. Emma hesitated, but Gwen knew which room was Carmelita’s. She’d made it a point to learn everything she could about the other girl after learning about how she’d rescued Wade.

“Girls!” said Mrs. Comacho with pleasant surprise. The short, round woman smiled at the two new girls in her home. “I’m so glad you came over. I’m making Empanadas. Be sure to take some with you when you go home.”

Mrs. Comacho loved children and, with her easygoing nature plus tendency to stuff sweets into anything that stopped moving long enough to eat, was very popular with them as well. It was a well known fact to (almost) all the children in town that if one was hurt, tired, or sad, all they had to do was run to Mrs. Comacho who would coo over them, feed them, and make sure they had a safe place to rest. Gwen had heard from reliable sources that Mrs. Comacho had wanted to have a large family with at least four children, and lavished attention on children that crossed her path.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Comacho had been pivotal to the scheme Gwen had run years ago to get rid of Mary Jane’s mother. The two adults were kind, protective, and respectable members of the community.

Gwen wasn’t entirely certain what had happened to Carmelita.

Upstairs there was only one closed door and it was easy to see that the other rooms (a weight training room, a study, and a bathroom) were not inhabited, so Emma knocked on the closed door. Gwen didn’t bother with social niceties and simply opened it to walk in on an enraged Carmelita.

“What are you doing?” demanded the girl. “Get out!” she demanded as she pointed to the door.

“Got something to talk to you about,” Gwen said, undeterred as she walked in and calmly took a seat on a wooden chest in Carmelita’s room.

“You,” snarled Carmelita.

“Carmelita!” called her father, still managing to keep his voice soft. “I’m off to the green!”

Carmelita gave the two girls in her room a glare before stalking over to the door of her room. Her demeanor softened for a moment. “Take care, Papa!” she called out. She turned, closed the door, and glared once more at her visitors; daring them to comment.

At any other time, Gwen would have. This was too important to waste on petty grievances. “Brighton Labs grabbed Wade and Peter today,” she said bluntly. Carmelita’s gaze dropped to the two chibis on Gwen’s lap. “They were rescued, video will probably be up on social media tomorrow. Not the point. Point is, they got another shipment of chibis.”

Carmelita gasped and fell against her door, eyes open in shock. “Everything all right up there?” Mrs. Comacho called out, voice muffled by the wooden door.

“Fine, Mama,” called Carmelita. “I just tripped.”

“You be careful up there!”

“Yes, Mama!” Carmelita turned her attention to Gwen. “Why are you here, Gwen?”

Gwen met her gaze squarely. “Because I know you have connections to Pets Are People Too.”

“You don’t respect them.”

Of course she didn’t. They were domestic terrorists who didn’t care who was in their way. Gwen snorted. “I think they should have thought harder about a name for their group,” she said with grim humor. “Maybe then they wouldn't have picked something with an acronym that reminds people to get a colonoscopy.”

Carmelita rolled her eyes. “What do you want with them?”

“I want to see if they’re willing to plan a raid to get the animals out of Brighton.”

Gwen was the suddenly the center of attention for both girls and both chibis as she explained. “Chibis aren’t the only lab animals there, and PAPT has a—reputation for rescuing lab animals.”

Emma, not surprisingly, was the one who caught on to the qualifier. “You don’t plan to have them rescue the chibis,” she said. “Gwen, what the Hell?”

Gwen was silent for a moment before she tried to explain. “PAPT does not like humans,” she said slowly. “In fact, there are a suspicious number of human casualties when they do animal rescues.”

“And?” asked Carmelita, unconcerned about human life.

“And,” continued Gwen implacably, “what happens when they decide chibis are just humans on a smaller scale?” The other two girls looked at the chibis, rapidly falling asleep, on Gwen’s lap as she nodded. “Exactly. Don’t worry; I have an idea of what to do about the chibis. I just need _you_ to focus on letting me know when PAPT is going to do their thing.”

“He’s going to want to meet you,” Carmelita warned.

“Good,” Gwen replied with satisfaction. She could make sure he knew that just because she was allowing his tricks in her town this once didn’t mean he was welcome there.

“I feel like I’m not going to like the next phase of your plan,” Emma said warily.

Gwen shrugged. “Probably not,” she said cheerfully.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen has a meeting with Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did NOT want to be written, but the story needs to move on...

Gwen calmly waited as Tony watched her with the same expression she usually gave science experiments, or projects that weren’t quite doing what she wanted them to do. “You want me,” Tony asked with incredulity, “to put up an unspecified number of chibis?”

“It would be temporary,” Gwen countered firmly. “But—yes.”

Tony watched her for a moment. She watched him back, fearlessly. There was no need to be afraid; he’d already decided that he wasn’t going to have her killed. Tony chuckled and leaned back in his office chair, arm casually dangling over the side and scratching the head of the great mastiff that laid there. “I’ve got to hear this,” he said with a grin. “Why?”

“Brighton Labs sent one of their own to grab the carrier I was using for Peter and Wade in Downtown,” Gwen explained. A small thrill of fury licked her spine at the memory, but she forced it back. “They didn’t,” she spat, “even have the decency to use a blank panel van. Oh, no! They thought they had so much power, that they were so untouchable, that they took off in a van _with the company logo on it_. They came into _my_ town, they stole _my_ chibis, and _didn’t even have the decency to try to do it well_!” Despite her best efforts she was shouting at the end of it. She took a deep breath to compose herself and then smiled at Tony. “I intend to destroy them.”

His lips twitched in an answering smile. “And how are you going to do that?”

“They got the ball rolling when I rescued Wade and Peter in their _public lobby_ after they denied having taken the chibis. Of course,” Gwen added thoughtfully, “they’ll say they had no way to know that two of their own went rogue to steal the town mascots and hang two of their own out to dry.”

Tony nodded. “Of course,” he agreed.

“So my next step was to talk to a fellow student who has strong ties to Pets Are People Too, who’s arranging a meeting between me and their leader so I can tell them all about the poor, defenseless lab animals that are being tortured on a regular basis.”

“Blood ties?” asked Tony.

“In about eight months.”

“Ah.”

“I’m going to go in with them and make a computer copy of absolutely _everything_ they’ve every done since the labs opened, make a highlighted bullet-point presentation for the reporter I know, and send it to him.”

“Ah.”

Gwen smiled grimly. “Naturally,” she said, “they’ll assume the attack on the labs was coordinated by him.”

“Naturally.”

“Which will give my father, law abiding officer that he is, time to make an _official_ inquiry. Luckily,” added Gwen calmly, “Judge Hawthorne is fond of both the chibis _and_ my father, and will be more than willing to sign any warrants that Dad deems necessary.”

“I see.” Tony ran a hand over his goatee as he watched Gwen. She knew that look; she’d surprised him. “And tell me again, where do I fit into this little scheme of yours?”

“While I’m copying data,” Gwen said, “I’m also going to be grabbing all of the chibis they have in the labs. Clearly I can’t stash them at my house.”

“Clearly. You need plausible deniability.”

“I think Mom would kill them. She barely tolerates Wade as it is; I can’t imagine what would happen if I brought in fifteen more.” Gwen frowned as she ran through her (short) list. “Dad can’t help, because _he_ needs plausible deniability—actually, he needs _actual_ deniability. I’m not telling him what’s happening until after everything’s been published. I can’t stash the chibis with either of my cohorts from Yearbook; one has an abusive father that tries to burn the place to the ground every time he gets drunk and the other has some of the _worst_ siblings anyone I know has ever been inflicted with. They’d probably drown the chibis just to watch her cry. I can’t stash them with the reporter, because he’s not home enough to take care of him. And if I put them with any of the vet hospitals in the area, they’ll just end up sent right back to Brighton and there goes all that hard work.”

“Right down the drain,” agreed Tony, amiably.

Gwen waited. After a moment of silence she sighed. “Tony,” she said exasperated, “we can’t have a conversation if only _one_ of us is speaking.”

Tony, infuriatingly, nodded. “Very true,” he admitted. He grinned and leaned back, resting his head on his laced fingers as he smirked at her.

“And?” she demanded.

“And what?” asked Tony.

He was testing her. He was baiting her. He was trying to make her angry.

It was working. “And,” she demanded, “aren’t you going to tell me what you want from me?”

“What I want from you?”

_Now_ he was  _mocking_ her. She narrowed her eyes. “Yes,” she grit through her teeth.

He grinned. He was winning and they both knew it. He sat up and grabbed a file from the top of his desk before tossing it towards her. “You were pretty good on that. Is that all you’ve got?”

Curious, she opened the folder. And stared, a little impressed by his research. It was everything she’d done on last year’s science fair project—up to and including the “mistakes” she’d put in to make sure she wouldn't actually win. Winning would have taken her out of Elfin Grove  at a time when she’d been planning the downfall of Mary Jane’s mother.

Gwen looked up at Tony, confused. “Yes, I’m better than this. Why?”

“I have a—project I want you to help me with.”

Gwen waited. And waited. Tony seemed to be having trouble talking. “What project?” she prompted. He frowned instead of answering and he slid another folder over to her. She opened it—and frowned. “Why do you have a detailed chemical analysis of Triple S?” she asked.  She flipped through it. The next page was detailed documentation on how, exactly, the drug affected the user. Nothing she hadn’t already guessed, with the way it was designed. Third page was the chemical analysis of a different drug, with the same signature as  Triple S and Gobby Gas. “What’s this?” she asked, puzzled.

“That is a detailed analysis of Oscorp’s shiny new addiction drug.” Gwen looked up to see that Tony was studying her. “They claim it can cure addiction.”

Gwen snorted. “ _Replacing_ addiction isn’t curing it,” she said derisively.

They’d been made by the same person. Had to have been. Like she’d said before, he’d practically signed the drugs. But—why?  Why make not one, but two highly addictive drugs only to turn around to market a “cure” for the addiction? More importantly—why would someone who had enough pull with Oscorp to create medicines for them be puttering around as a third-rate drug dealer?

“The ‘cure’ that Oscorp is peddling won’t work,” Tony pointed out.

“Obviously,” Gwen muttered as she continued through the file. The person who had compiled it was just as thorough with the new drug as the previous one and there were similarities between them. The surprising thing was that they didn’t affect the subjects identically. “You can’t fight addiction by replacing it with another one.”

“How would _you_ do it?” asked Tony.

Gwen looked up. Was he really asking what she thought he was. “First,” she said slowly, “I’d isolate the subject. Withdrawal's will be a bitch, but step one is to prevent more of the drug from getting into the system.”

Tony nodded. “What next?” he asked.

She looked thought the files with a slight frown. “It seems to me,”  she said as her mind ran through possibilities, “that it might— _might—_ be possible to encourage the brain to rebuild new connections to older parts of itself. Maybe.” She thought about it. Tony pushed a pen over to her and she flipped one of the papers over as she ran through the calculations.

A fter a moment she stopped and rubbed her eyes. “All of this is moot,” she groaned. “There isn’t a way to test it.”

“What if there was?” asked Tony as his finger idly traced the pattern of the wood of the desk between them.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. “What are you implying?” she asked.

A grin split the man’s face. “Tell me, how good are you at playing helpless?” he asked.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen and Harry have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not forget about this story! The plot bunny and I have just been fighting over it. Sorry for the inconvenience. And late update.

“You’re going to _what_?” Harry stared at Gwen. She had to be insane. There was no other explanation.

Gwen made a shushing motion with her hand and glanced over her shoulder before turning back to him. The house, darkened for the night, slept on peacefully despite his outburst and she turned back to him on his spot on the couch. “I’m going to go rescue chibis from a lab that is TTD’in them,” she said calmly.

TTD. Test To Destruction. “What—how?” he asked, chilled. No one knew better than Harry how precious and gentle chibis were. How could anyone use them as lab animals? Test them to destruction?

And how were they getting the chibis in the first place? They were so careful to make sure the chibis went to _homes…_

No. _Harry_ was careful to make sure the chibis went to homes. Dr. Wu didn’t care. The man still referred to the precious little creatures by numbers.

“I’m doing a simultaneous chibi heist while Pets Are People Too go in for the regular animals,” Gwen said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts.

Harry sat up on the couch, blankets pooling around him, as he pressed his face into his hands. His chibis, his precious chibis were being hurt, tortured—to _death_. He looked back up Gwen, her pale hair almost a halo around her head in the dim light. “What do you need from me?” he asked. Whatever it was, he’d do it. He had to save the poor little things.

Then he had to figure out how a lab had gotten their hands on chibis in the first place.

“Have an alibi,” Gwen said.

He stared at her. Surely he couldn't have heard her correctly. “What?” he asked.

Gwen sighed. “Harry, you’ve been in town for less than two weeks,” she told him. “Now, suddenly, the one lab in the entire area—that happens to be using chibis that you are conspicuously linked to—is about to get raided and have all those precious little animals stolen while all their data is wiped from the systems.” At the noise he made she snorted. “You didn’t think I’d leave them intact, did you? After stealing Peter and Wade like they did?”

He stared at her for a moment. He wasn’t sure if she realized what she was saying. She wasn’t going to just steal their lab animals—she was going to destroy _everything_ that lab had ever worked on. “Make copies,” he advised. He couldn't tell, but it looked as though she was glaring at him in the dim light. “If they have any scientists at all,” he said slowly to explain, “everything is documented. Some of the chibis—of the animals—may need serious medical attention. The records should say what they were being tested for and with.”

Gwen nodded. “Good advice,” she allowed. “I’ll copy everything first, but I won’t leave them a single scrap of information.”

“Good,” said Harry. It wasn’t much in revenge for the poor, sweet little chibis that had likely already died, but it was a start. “You’ll need an alibi too,” he said firmly. If he was going to be a suspect just for being in town—then _her_ position was a hundred times worse.

“Already taken care of. I’ll also have to leave for a while,” she said.

“Leave? Why?”

Gwen chuckled. “Well, I’ve got to have somewhere to _put_ the chibis, don’t you think?” she asked reasonably. “I found someone willing to take them short-term, but it’s gonna take some work from me after.” Her head tilted and he could see the shadows of what appeared to be a smile on her face. “By the way, why _are_ you in Elfin Grove?” she asked. “We’re not exactly—prominent on a national scale.”

Harry felt his face twist into a grimace as he leaned back against the back of the couch. “It’s because of my brother,” he admitted. “He’s really interested in this town; I don’t know why. But No—Father wants me to keep an eye on him.”

“Your brother?” Harry could almost hear the confusion in her voice. “What could possibly interest him _here_?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry wearily. He rubbed a hand against his face wondering why she’d felt the need to have this conversation in the middle of the night. “Unlike me, he’s an accomplished scientist. Chemist, specifically.” Harry was so proud of Theo’s achievements. Unlike Harry, Theo actually _had_ achievements. “He said something about a blond tart giving him issues.” Gwen made a strangled noise and he looked at her in time to see the shadow of a hand raising in the air. “What?” he asked.

“Me,” Gwen said, her voice still twisted. “I’m the ‘blond tart’.”

Harry couldn't stop the flinch. “His words, not mine,” he protested.

“I figured. And the two of you being brothers explains a lot.” She reached over and gently tousled his hair, like she did with her little brother. “Goodnight Harry,” she said warmly. “Have sweet dreams.” She stood up to leave.

“Wait.” She looked at him and he felt his face flush. “Where—where are they going to go?”

“I made a deal with Tony,” Gwen said calmly.

Harry stared at her. With Tony? “You—you made a deal with the Maggia?” he asked, not sure if she was telling him the truth.

Gwen chuckled. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said fondly. “The Maggia’s Russian, Tony’s Italian.” She got up and left the living room.

Well, maybe Gwen could go straight to sleep after a conversation like that, but Harry sure couldn't. He got up and went to the bathroom—only to find Theo standing there, at the sink. “Good to see you too,” he grumbled to his brother.

Theo simply chuckled as Harry washed his face. “I like her. She’s not afraid.”

Harry grunted. He remembered his last girlfriend. And the one before. “She hasn’t met Norman yet,” Harry said with a sigh as he grabbed a towel to dry his face. He looked up into Theo’s face. “Really Theo?” he asked. “A tart?”

Theo grinned back at his brother. “Would you label that girl as ‘sweet’?” he asked. “No. She’s feisty, a spunky one, and she’s prepared to defend her territory to her last breath. Are you prepared for what it means if she likes you, brother mine?”

Harry snorted. “She doesn’t like me,” he said firmly as he hung the towel back up.

“We’ll see.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen establishes an alibi for herself and Harry, making sure he can't follow.

The music was loud and pounding. The crowd was so thick people were almost plastered together. All of it served to remind Gwen why she didn’t normally go out on Friday nights. Still, on this night, she needed to here. More importantly, she needed to be _seen_ here. Memories, as she knew well, were malleable with the right tools. If someone remembered seeing her, and was told that she’d been there all night, then they remembered seeing her all night. Especially with half of the junk that most of the crowd was on. Honestly, it was a good thing that her father respected her wishes and didn’t crash the club because there were more drugs floating around than in a pharmacy.

Sitting at the bar, looking like a fish out of water, was Harry. He desperately clutched his glass like a lifeline and his eyes were wide and slightly wild. Gwen slotted herself between two bar stools to talk to him. “Not enjoying yourself?” she asked. Well, shouted over the roar of the crowd and the music.

Harry tried to twist his face into a smile. He didn’t succeed, but it was cute to watch. “I prefer quieter entertainment,” he yelled back, noise almost completely drowning in the roar.

Gwen laughed and turned to face Weasel. The man had never allowed anyone else to tend the bar to the Friday night crowd, terrified that the one time he turned it over to someone else that person would unlock the alcohol. “Weasel!” Gwen said. “Two Star Kissed Sunrises!”

Weasel gave her a sour face that would have curdled milk. “I hate you,” he said as he grabbed two shot glasses and began to mix Gwen’s favorite drink.

Gwen made a kissy face. “You love me,” she countered. “Without me, this bar wouldn't exist.”

Weasel didn’t mention that it was her fault his bar had been in jeopardy in the first place. He put the two shot glasses down on the counter and Harry looked at the odd concoction—a little orange ball swimming in a bit of silver on top of light green—with curiosity. When he went to pick up the glass, she gently put her hand over it to stop him. “Just so you know,” she told him, yelling over the roar of the crowd into his ear, “if you drink this, you’d better drink nothing but water all night.” Then she winked at him, downed her own shot, and shimmied onto the dance floor.

He was passed out by the time she came back. He slumped over the bar, drool lightly tracing a path down his chin. She’d known he wouldn't hold back, but had warned him anyway. She reached over and gently wiped it away.

Weasel watched, clearly judging her. “You’re one scary person Gwen,” he said as he cleaned a glass while the party behind them went on.

“You shush,” she ordered as she smoothed a curl away from his eye. If she’d left it there it would have gotten caught in the wrinkle of his lid when he woke up. “He needs to be out for this, or he’d try to help.” Weasel just shook his head. “And Weasel?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “you were here all night.”

Gwen smiled sweetly at him. “If anything happens to him I’ll destroy you,” she said in as honeyed a tone as she could manage before leaving.

Gwen went to the back like she was going to the restrooms, but slipped through the hidden back door. (Hidden, because there were people who would try to leave without paying by going through the back. Gwen didn’t know how Weasel had gotten the fire inspector to sign off on the club.) Once out there she saw a woman, mid-twenties with a shock of artificially red hair. The pale woman watched as Gwen pulled her pale shirt inside-out to have the stark blackness of the other side facing out, pulled a hairband off her wrist to pull her hair completely back, and topped the new outfit off with a dark hat that perfectly hid her pale blond hair.

“You must be Gwen,” the woman said with approval. “I’m Natasha,” the woman said reaching out a hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Gwen said politely as she shook the woman’s hand.

The woman’s full lips quirked in something almost like a smile before she withdrew her hand. “This way,” she said shortly before walking off. Gwen followed her to a car. This car was a dark older model, just like a good third of the cars that wandered through Elfin Grove.

“Nice,” Gwen approved as she got in.

Another lip twitch. “It blends in,” Natasha said calmly as she buckled herself up.

“I know.” Gwen grinned as Natasha smirked towards her before driving off. She was silent until they were approaching the (disturbingly full) parking lot of Brighton Labs. “There’s a small restaurant a little further up.”

“Longer walk.” Natasha’s voice was carefully neutral.

“No cameras in the lot,” Gwen explained firmly.

Natasha smiled. They parked and hiked over towards the group gathering in the parking lot of Brighton. Several cars had their lights on and Natasha lost her smile. “Amateurs,” she muttered.

Gwen agreed. Those cars would be dead long before the night was over—but there were enough of them that perhaps it wouldn't take them as long as she’d thought. “Cannon fodder,” Gwen replied.

The smile returned.

As they reached the group a familiar person spotted them. “Gwen!” called Carmelita.

Gwen wanted to smack the girl for being so stupid. At no point did she believe that “Natasha” was the real name of the woman beside her. Instead, she sighed. “Why is your hair loose?” she demanded of the dark girl. “Your hair—which holds DNA, may I remind you—is loose, long, and could get caught in _anything_.”

Carmelita rolled her eyes, the dark irises flashing with annoyance. “Come _on_ ,” she said, disregarding the friendly warning as she grabbed Gwen’s arm. “He wants to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Gwen as she followed. Natasha followed the two of them like a hunter stalking its prey and Gwen felt a surge of gratitude towards Tony for insisting on having one of his own people along.

The man was tall, and much older than the two girls for Gwen to be comfortable with, given how Carmelita draped herself around him. The man, an odd combination of dark and light tones, almost as though his skin was slightly mottled, sneered down at Gwen from his impressive height of almost seven feet. “Who are you?” he demanded.

Gwen saw the sly intelligence in those eyes and realized that he was using the people here just as much as she was. She didn’t know what he was using them for, what purpose breaking into labs, stealing test animals, and wreaking havoc had for him. She didn’t care. “Gwen,” she said shortly, hoping that Carmelita didn’t give the man her full name.

His eyes flicked to Natasha. “And you are?” he demanded.

“A friend of a friend,” Gwen answered smoothly.

She had his undivided attention once again. “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked.

“How do we know we can trust _you_?” Gwen countered. His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together as his mouth opened to speak—

“We’re in!” someone cried excitedly. The man glared at her before moving with the crowd into the building.

Gwen sighed once she and Natasha were alone in the parking lot. “And,” she said bitterly disappointed, “they go in through the front door.”

“What are you going to do?”

Natasha was not offering help. She was not offering guidance. She truly wanted Gwen’s opinion and Gwen couldn't help but think that it was a test of some kind.

“Obviously,” Gwen said with a smirk as she turned, “we’re going in another way while everyone is busy here.”

“Lead on,” Natasha said falling into step beside her.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen joins a raid.

Gwen dropped into the dark, empty lab. She could hear the chaos not far from her as she pulled out her phone. She would have made this call sooner, but she didn’t want to risk Natasha over hearing it, and this was her first chance alone.

“I’m not really sure this sandbox is worth all the trouble to get into it,” the voice on the other end drawled.

Gwen couldn't help but grin at Theo’s voice. She did love talking to him. “Some new toys came into my sandbox,” she said, continuing the analogy, “and they have your signature on them.” There was a pause and she added, completely serious, “I’m not asking why you’re creating three different highly addictive drugs and one of them happens to have the Oscorp brand.” Thanks to Harry, she knew they were brothers.

Gwen frowned suddenly. If they were brothers, why hadn’t she seen Theo? Why hadn’t anyone else in town mentioned meeting the other Osborn sibling? Where was he?

“So what are you asking?” The return voice was just as serious as hers.

“As part of a deal I made for some outside help with an outside problem,” Gwen said, “I’m going to have to come up with a real chemical solution to Triple S.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want to interfere with your plans. True, I’m getting rid of the—distributors in my area, but I don’t want to interfere with you too much.”

Silence. “You make it sound like you can,” Theo said. He didn’t sound angry. He sounded curious.

“I can,” Gwen said firmly. “It will probably take a while, but I can do it.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really. I’ll keep it limited though.” Gwen checked to make sure she was still alone and that Natasha couldn't overhear the conversation. It didn’t matter if the woman liked her or not, her first allegiance was to Tony. Well, for now.

“Oh?”

Gwen rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Stop being such a smart ass,” she said. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Well, when you succeed,” Theo’s voice left no doubt that he believed she could, “send me the formulas. I might be able to make use of them.”

“Will do.” Gwen flipped her phone closed to disconnect the call before slipping into the hall. The chaos had moved away. Good. She didn’t want witnesses for this next bit. She slipped back into the lab, found the disposable gloves (every good lab had at least one box lying around) teased a couple out without touching anything else, and then got to work on the computers plugging in the flash drive that she’d brought with her. She set the program running it got to work downloading and wiping the files in the entire system.

The door to the room opened and Natasha peeked in. “We have an—issue,” said the woman grimly.

Gwen got up leaving the drive to do its job and followed Natasha down the hall. Behind them they could hear glass smashing and Gwen hoped they’d managed to cut the alarms—and that some of them were smart enough to be wearing gas masks if they were breaking random equipment in a lab like this. It would be so easy to be caught at the ER, and she was willing to bet that they knew her name.

Natasha gently tapped a keypad and the door to a secured room opened. Gwen stepped inside and stared with a mixture of horror and fascination. No. It couldn't be. How? How was this even _possible_?

Gwen took a step in and stared. The first thing she noticed were the small one gallon aquariums keeping the little chibis separated. They were packed into the filthy containers, stacked one on top of another. In some of the piles the ones on the bottom were starting to show cracks in the glass. The chibis looked dirty, wary—one of them, a particularly hairy little thing, was growling at the two of them.

She made the mistake of looking at the rest of the lab. There were two blood stained work tables in the center of the lab, and a trashcan with a vile smell coming out of it. She didn’t look inside.

“This is way more than fifteen,” Natasha said. Her voice was even, level.

“It is,” admitted Gwen as she looked at the chibis. Some of of the filthy aquariums had only one chibi in it, but the majority had at least five. She turned and eyed Natasha. “Does this negate our deal?” she asked.

Her lips thinned as she scanned the cages. “It will make getting them out a challenge,” she said.

“Only if we go out the same way we came in.” When Natasha looked at her she said, “I cut the alarms on the fire doors. It should look like more random damage.” As the woman continued to look at her she shrugged. “I like to have a backup plan in case something goes wrong,” she added.

Natasha smiled. “Your plan?” she asked.

Gwen wondered what her orders were from Tony. She turned to the wall of chibis and stepped forward. Wade was smart by chibi standards, and he had come from this lab. It stood to reason that the other chibis in this lab were just as smart. At least, she hoped they were. “We’re going to get all of you out of here,” she told the chibis.

They went silent as they stared at her. Their large eyes in their slightly oversized heads watched her warily. More wary than a chibi should ever be. More importantly, they were watching her intelligently. “This is going to require cooperation on your part,” Gwen informed them. “For a time, about,” she did some mental calculations including driving distance, speed limits, traffic that might be encountered, and stoplights, “an hour and a half you’ll all be in a single enclosed space—but then you’ll be in an open room and able to roam around. Are you willing to cooperate?”

“What happens if they aren’t?” asked Natasha as the chibis regarded the two women.

“We leave them here.” Gwen didn’t want to. But she couldn't risk the unwilling chibis.

The hairy one began an odd series of growls and barks to the rest of the chibis, and they nodded firmly, pressed against the glass. “I assume you have a plan,” Natasha said calmly.

“I’m making it up as I go.” Gwen left the room, wandered the labs through the devastation that the PAPT were leaving—stopping just long enough to grab the drive, which had finished its job—and stopped one PAPT member from smashing a giant aquarium that was almost large enough for Gwen herself to fit in. “I need this for rescue,” she told the teen.

The guy looked at her with disbelief. “How are you going to move it?” he demanded.

Good question. Gwen looked around and spotted a trolley cart. “Will you help me shift it to this?” she asked. He nodded and helped her wrestle the heavy thing onto the trolley.

“The broken glass is hard to drive around,” he said as he began pushing it. Gwen wasn’t about to argue about work she didn’t have to do herself, and she led him down the hall to the room with the chibis. He stepped in, looked up, and swallowed as the color drained from his face. “Good God,” he whispered.

“They’re called chibis,” Gwen informed him. Natasha’s eyes darted between them. Gwen couldn't tell much from the woman’s body language, but thought she was amused. “Will you help me move them?” she asked. He nodded, disappeared, and came back with a ladder to get the aquariums on top. “When your done transferring them,” he asked as he handed the first one to her and a second to Natasha, “can I smash the glass?”

“Go wild,” said Gwen as she started to put the chibis in the large aquarium—and stopped. She went over to the wall and grabbed a couple of pristine coats that were hanging and laid them in the bottom, to give the chibis something soft to land on before she reached in, both hands on the little aquarium in her grasp to give the chibis inside a chance to jump out onto the softness. One of them rolled on the coat and then rubbed the fabric all over itself, leaving a light mess of grime in its wake.

The three of them worked quickly until the guy yelped and Gwen whirled to see that one of the chibis had stabbed him with—something. She couldn't tell what. She raced over to see what was going on and the hairy chibi had—somehow—developed claws that it had used to stab the guy. Gwen carefully reached up the ladder and gently unhooked the chibi, praying that it wasn’t going to attack her too. The chibi rumbled with a surprisingly deep growl and as Gwen pulled him away she saw the claws slide back into the chibi’s hands.

“Are you okay?” demanded Gwen.

The guy shook his hand—spraying blood on everything—and said, “Eh, I’ve gotten worse. Is it venomous?”

Good question. Gwen looked down at the chibi, which seemed content to nestle in her gloved hands and growl menacingly. “I don’t think so,” Gwen offered.

“Then I’ll be fine. Really.” The guy grinned a manic glint in his eyes. “Besides, I’ll probably get hurt more breaking all of this glass.”

Okay then. Gwen nodded, took the little chibi towards the big tank, and nearly yelped when he leaped out of her hand into it. She thought she heard a crunch, but when she looked in he was fine.

“We’re running low on time,” Natasha said as she dipped another aquarium in the big one, tipping out seven eager little chibis.

Gwen pressed her lips together. “Right,” she said as she got back to work. They quickly finished and started pulling the cart. The guy grinned, saluted them with a crowbar from who knew where, and as soon as they were clear of the room, he began to lay about with it, smashing all the glass.

“Luckily,” Natasha said as they made their way to the exit, “that was the only room with chibis in it.”

Gwen frowned as she took in the sounds of the destruction around here. PAPT were many things—but subtle was not on that list. “Luckily,” Gwen echoed. “How do you feel about getting the car while I push these to the street?” she asked. “I don’t think we can get the trolley up that hill.”

“Fair enough.” As soon as they were out of the building Natasha ran up to the car (moving quicker than Gwen had thought possible) while Gwen pushed the trolley towards the street. It was the work of moments when they met to get the aquarium off the trolley and into the car before driving off.

By the time they left, parts of the building were on fire.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony works on a project. Peter helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First interactions here! :) (Well, in THIS story, at least.)

Tony rubbed absently at the stubble on his face while he glared at the contraption he was making. Make a self-contained clean energy source? Easy. Make it weak enough not to overload and cook the appliances trying to use it? A lot harder.

He growled absently as he blindly reached for a tool to take the thing apart. The handle of the tool he needed thumped into his hand and he grunted his thanks before tackling the object in front of him. Only when he had it completely disassembled did he realize something important—he was the only human in the lab and the robot he’d designed to help him was disabled. He looked back at the table to see—a tiny human? He looked at the small, brown haired thing. He pointed to the tool he was holding, a tool that he’d made and didn’t exist anywhere in the market. “Did you hand me this?” he asked.

The little human looked at him, eyes going impossibly wide as it tilted its head. “Awoo?” it asked.

What was this thing again? Oh, right—Gwen had brought her two chibis over as she was worried her mother might try to kill them—or neglect them to death. So, this was one of the chibis. Odd. No one had told him that the things were supposed to be smart, or helpful. Would someone have mentioned it?

Well, he supposed that he was the only one who didn’t know they were smart and helpful. “If you’re going to help,” Tony said firmly as he looked at the thing in front of him, “you need to know what I’m doing.”

“Awee?”

“Yes.” As the little person scrambled up to a vantage point he could see from (did all these little people stick to things? That was handy) Tony pointed out the various parts and explained what they were, how they were supposed to move together, and what he thought he was doing wrong.

“Woo!” the little person said suddenly, giving one of Tony’s hands a strong enough kick to dent the metal of the artificial limb. As Tony raised an eyebrow at the surprising display of strength the little person continued to babble as it grabbed a pencil and stood over a piece of paper. “Woo, ah, awoo,” the person said. The little person paused and called over its shoulder, “Wa! Wa!”

The other little person, that had been quietly amusing itself painting with finger paints, toddled over dripping blue paint all over the desk. “Wade?”

“Ah, awoo, awee,” the first one said firmly, pointing. The second one gave a surprisingly accurate military salute and started painting in certain areas of whatever the first one was drawing.

“Sir.” Tony turned in his seat to see Jarvis, the old family butler, looking down his nose at the two little people on the desk.

“Yeah J?” asked Tony.

“Sir, I have gotten correspondence from Lady Natasha. It would appear the facility had more chibis than previously believed.”

Tony waved a dismissive hand towards the loyal butler. “Not like we don’t have room,” he said cheerfully. After it wasn’t like the two—

He cut that thought in the middle. The only thing that thought could do was hurt him now. But only for now; if Gwen’s theory was right they’d be back soon. He could figure out a situation with the little people then.

Speaking of little people—he dropped his head to look at what the two little people already on his desk were doing. He stared at blooming schematic in front of him. He frowned at something the little person had drawn. He grabbed a pencil of his own and made a notation before (not pressing on the paper to mess up that pretty diagram that was being created) moving the pencil towards a part and looking at the little person with a questioning look.

The little person grabbed the pencil Tony was holding and moved it over to another part of the schematic before pressing down hard enough to make a mark. “Woo,” the little person said firmly.

Tony nodded. The new placement might solve the problem of power stabilization with the lower much lower) Joules of the power source. “That just might work.”

“Wade!” the other little person smacked the pencil away to make a blue dot.

“Yup,” Tony said as he watched a moment more before grabbing another tool. Time to make this work.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen and Natasha prepare to acclimate the chibis to their new (temporary) home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN THIS FIC! I was working on something for Christmas and time got away from me, but I have not forgotten!
> 
> Thank you all for your patience and if no one reads this--I understand. It's been a long time since I updated this one.

Gwen sighed as Natasha went inside to wrangle some help getting the large aquarium out of the car. She was certain the two of them could get it themselves, but Natasha said the men needed something to do. She came back with two men, each easily larger than she was, one whipcord muscle with eyes that roamed like Natasha’s did and the other pudgy and disgruntled.

“What’s this?” demanded the pudgy one.

“Guests,” said Natasha firmly.

The whipcord one looked around her and into the car. “Tiny guests. Large aquarium. Does Tony know?”

“He gave the okay.” Natasha gestured to Gwen, who was standing silent as she leaned against the car. Dealing with the group Pets Are People Too was exhausting. Not to mention pushing the trolley uphill towards the drive entrance and manhandling the aquarium into the car. She wasn’t entirely certain how they’d done it. “This is Gwen. She’ll be staying here for a while.” Gwen gave a weary smile and waved at the men. “Gwen, this is Clint,” Whipcord nodded, “and Happy,” she gestured to the pudgy one. “Boys, we’ve got to get the room set up, so it’s up to the two of you to get the aquarium into the house.”

“Watch out,” Gwen advised as she followed Natasha. “One of them stabs.”

“You mean bites,” Happy corrected.

“No,” said Gwen shortly as the two females entered the house. Gwen looked up at the huge, fifteen foot ceilings with the giant crystal chandelier. The house was _huge_ ; it could easily eat her mother’s home and her father’s home put together. “Did Tony say what room we could use?”

“Not at all.” Gwen turned towards the voice and saw the small, impeccably dressed man sniff disdainfully. “Sir does not like to be ‘bothered’ with minor details, such as ‘where a guest will stay.’ Sir is only bothered by details such as ‘where the wrenches moved to’ and ‘why the liquor cabinet has mysteriously emptied’.” The man sniffed again.

Natasha chuckled. “Gwen, this is Jarvis, Tony’s butler. Jarvis this is Gwen. I’m not sure what she is to Tony.”

Gwen smiled and held out a hand to the man. “I’m going to be his assistant slash bait,” she said cheerfully.

Jarvis calmly gave her hand a single shake. “That sounds horrifying,” he said in that same voice. “What do you need a room for?”

Gwen was a little surprised that he hadn’t assumed said room was for her, but he worked for Tony. Presumably he’d seen some strange things. “An aquarium full of chibis.”

Jarvis blinked. He looked at Natasha. Blinked again. Faced Gwen. “Chibis?” he asked.

The door slammed open. “Hey, be careful with that,” grumbled Happy. “Do you know how hard it is to find a solid slab of oak that size?”

“Shut up and hold your end of the thing.”

Jarvis looked down his nose at the two men and their burden. “Did it occur to either sir to obtain the household cart?” he demanded as he looked at them. At their simultaneous blank expressions he sighed. “Of course not. Lady Natasha, please escort Gwen to the Red Room while I save these two from permanently injuring themselves.”

“The Red Room is this way,” Natasha said as she walked up the stairs.

“I hope for their sake there’s an elevator,” Gwen said as she followed. Her only response was a slight snicker from Natasha. The stairs were dark hardwood; ebony stained mahogany, unless she was wrong. On the next floor the doors were color coded.

To Gwen’s surprise, Natasha opened a blue door. “Here we are,” said the woman as the two of them walked into the room.

The room was red. The floor was a deep, dark red that was almost black. The walls were a bright, cheery red with cherry-stained wood paneling. Even the ceiling was red. The wood of the bed, end tables, and chairs were the same cherry-stained wood that the paneling was while the actual covers were gold. “Huh. Why is the door blue?”

“Stark got drunk one day and switched all the doors around,” Natasha replied. “I’m not sure why. There’s a bathroom that way,” she said pointing.

Gwen followed the direction to a bathroom. Thankfully, the bathroom was pristine white. And had a large ice bucket that Gwen then proceeded to put warm water in as she grabbed several cloths. Those poor chibis were _filthy_. She was going to try to clean them up, and hope they didn’t decide to attack her.

Maybe she should round up Peter and Wade to serve as interference and translators.

“I’ll be right back,” Gwen told Natasha. “I’m going to go grab Peter and Wade.”

“How will you find them?” asked Natasha. She looked curious, not upset.

“Trust me,” said Gwen. “It’ll be easy.”


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen saves Tony from Wade.

“Put that down!” Tony screamed as he leaped on top of a table.

“Woo! Ah, awoo!” scolded Peter.

The little person pointed at Wade and shook his finger, clearly admonishing his fellow little person. It did nothing. Wade advanced towards Tony with a scalpel (and how had the thing _gotten_ a scalpel in the first place?). Tony wouldn't have been worried normally, it’s not as though his two arms were flesh and blood. However, they _were_ broken at the moment.

Tony breathed a little easier when he realized the table was tall enough that the deranged little person couldn't get to the top of it. He glanced at the other little person and realized that Peter wasn’t relaxing at all. “Awoo awee!” scolded the little person. Peter scowled and added, “Ay-yo!”

Cautiously Tony peered over the edge of the table, careful not to overbalance himself. He yanked up as he realized that Wade was stabbing in the scalpel into the wood of the chair and using it to _climb_. How did this happen? What was going on? It wasn’t that long ago that they were just enjoying drawing and coloring!

The door to the lab opened and Gwen walked in. Wade whirled and leaped—only to stab his scalpel into the book she was holding as she used her other hand to grab him. “I see you’re pissed off again,” she said calmly.

Too calmly. “This happen often?” asked Wade.

Gwen shrugged. “Not so much anymore. Worst was when I took away the finger paints. What’s wrong with your arms?”

Tony winced. “They went down.” He carefully got down off the table and leaned against it when his feet were on the floor. “I was working,” had his arms been working he would have gestured to the shit on the table, “and a stray pulse knocked them out.”

Gwen, still holding the little person, looked at him. “Stray pulse. EMP?” He nodded and she rolled her eyes. “You don’t even shield your arms from one of the most common electronic scrambling devices? For God’s sake Tony, _cell phones_ are protected from EMP these days!”

Tony glared right back, knowing that he was not making an impression on her. Or at least not a significant one. “It’s on my list,” he grit out between his teeth.

To his surprise she nods. “Yeah,” she said. “Been there. Let me get the chibis settled.”

“Wade!” The little person in her hands waved its arms before gesturing towards Tony. “Wade wade WADE!”

“Woo,” said little person Peter, scowling at the violent little person. “Woo, ah, awoo!”

“Don’t be like that,” Gwen scolded both little people. “I need help getting the rescued chibis to settle while Jarvis prepares food for them. The hairy one keeps trying to stab people.”

The scarred little person’s head flipped towards Gwen so fast that Tony couldn't figure out how it hadn’t snapped its fool neck. “Wade,” he said. Suddenly he began wiggling. “Wade wade wade wade!” It sounded happy excited. Tony supposed that was an improvement on trying to kill him.

“Right.” Gwen reached out for Peter who pointed at Tony. “Look, I have a lot of scared little chibis who’ve just had their entire worlds shocked,” she told the little person. She pointed at Wade. “Do you want to leave him alone with them?”

“Owoo,” said Peter, eyes even huger than normal before scrambling towards her.

Gwen nodded. “I’ll be back soon,” she said before walking off.

Tony waited as he leaned against the table. Thankfully, it was bolted to the floor. He remembered bolting it down shortly after designing his arms. Steve and Bucky had both insisted after the fourth time the table pushed away leaving him flat on the floor. God he missed them.

Gwen came back with Jarvis. He was carrying the miniature toolkit needed to service the arms and wearing his standard offended expression. “I see Sir has managed, once again, to get himself into trouble.” He sniffed.

“Be nice,” Gwen ordered as she took the kit from the butler and set it on the table. “Everyone has mishaps with unfinished projects.”

That was the second time she’d mentioned something like that. “What was yours?” he asked curiously.

“Oh, I tried to make a light saber,” said Gwen calmly as she expertly (and where did she get this experience?) opened a panel in one arm to tinker with it.

“You. Tried to make. A light saber?”

“Didn’t work out well. _Did_ make a plasma dagger, but I forgot to put a safety on it and my little brother accidentally burned down the shop with it.” A brief whir and the arm was functional again before she moved on to the other one. “I took the blame with our parents, because it was kind of my fault. If I’d put a safety on it, he wouldn't have been able to activate the plasma. And for some reason the only color I could make was blue.”

Stark stared at her. Somehow he could believe that this diminutive human actually tried to build a light saber. “What happened to the project?”

“Hmm? Oh, I scrapped it. Didn’t work right anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember; comments are the fuel that keep authors going. :)


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